SEEING  THE 
EASTERN 

STATE 

JOHN  T.  FARIS 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 


By  JOHN  T.  PARIS 


SEEING  THE  SUNNY  SOUTH 

115  illustrations.     Frontispiece  in  color. 
It  covers  everything  of  interest  in  houses,  roads,  traditions, 
sports,  entertaining  stories  and  historical  anecdotes  about  the 
different  places. 

SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

113  illustrations  and  2  maps.     Octavo. 

A  wonderful  panorama  in  text  and  illustrations  of  the  scenic 
glories  from  the  Rockies  to  the  Pacific. 

SEEING  PENNSYLVANIA 

Frontispiece  in  color,  113  illustrations  in  doubletone  and  2 

maps.     Octavo. 

A  rare  and  fascinating  guide  to  an  American  wonderland 
which  all  Americans  should  know. 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  OLD  PHILADELPHIA 

Frontispiece  in  color  and   101   illustrations  in  doubletone. 

Decorated  cloth.     Octavo. 

"A  narrative  sometimes  purely  romantic,  sometimes  epic, 
but  always  finely  human  .  .  .  particularly  inciting  Americans 
to  a  broader  patriotism." — Boston  Transcript. 

OLD  ROADS  OUT  OF  PHILADELPHIA 

117  illustrations  and  a  map.     Decorated  cloth. 

Octavo. 

"It  would  be  hard  to  find  anywhere  in  America  roads 
richer  in  historic  interest  .  .  .  and  John  T.  Fans  has  told  the 
story  of  them  well." — New  York  Times. 

By  THEODOOR  DE  BOOY 
and  JOHN  T.  PARIS 

THE  VIRGIN  ISLANDS 
OUR  NEW  POSSESSIONS  AND 
THE  BRITISH  ISLANDS 

97  illustrations  and  five  maps  especially  prepared  for 

this  work.     Octavo. 

"A  new  and  wonderfully  entertaining  book  of  travel  .  .  . 
an  ideal  book — would  there  were  many  more  'just  as  good.'  " 

Travel. 

IN  PREPARATION 
Uniform  with  this  volume. 

SEEING  THE  MIDDLE  WEST 


SEEING  THE 
EASTERN  STATES 


BY 


JOHN  T.  FARIS 

AUTHOR  or  "SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST,"    "SEEING  THE  SUNNY  SOUTH," 
"SEEING  PENNSYLVANIA,"  "OLD  ROADS  OUT  OF  PHILADELPHIA,"  ETC. 

WITH  FRONTISPIECE  IN  COLOR 
AND  91  DOUBLETONE  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PHILADELPHIA  AND  LONDON 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1922 


Fiofc 


COPYRIGHT,    IQ22,    BY  J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PRINTED   BY  J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON   SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,  U.   S.   A. 


O  come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord; 
Let  us  make  a  joyful  noise  to  the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 
Let  us  come  before  his  presence  with  thanksgiving, 
And  make  a  joyful  noise  unto  him  with  psalms. 
For  the  Lord  is  a  great  God,  and  a  great  King  above  all  Gods 
In  his  hand  are  the  deep  places  of  the  earth; 
The  strength  of  the  hills  is  his  also. 
The  sea  is  his,  and  he  made  it; 
And  his  hands  formed  the  dry  land. 
O  come,  let  us  worship  and  bow  down; 
Let  us  kneel  before  the  Lord  our  Maker. 
For  he  is  our  God, 

And  we  are  the  people  of  his  pasture,  and  the  sheep  of  his  hand. 

Psalm  95 ':  1-7 


842565 


FOREWORD 

FOE  the  fortunate  traveler  who  plans  to  journey 
through  the  Eastern  States  by  train,  by  auto- 
mobile, or  on  foot,  this  volume  is  designed  as 
an  aid  in  mapping  out  routes,  a  companion  on  the  way, 
a  reminder  of  the  historic  associations  from  Portland 
to  Pittsburgh  and  from  Niagara  Falls  to  New  York, 
New  Jersey  and  Delaware. 

But  should  the  projected  vacation  journey  so  care- 
fully planned  prove  impossible  the  long  summer  will 
seem  to  loom  ahead  dark,  gloomy,  forbidding.  Such  a 
vision  is  so  unpleasant  that  most  people  are  apt  to 
resist  the  suggestion  that  they  decide  to  make  the  best 
of  a  bad  business  and  get  as  good  a  vacation  as  possible 
without  leaving  home.  How  can  they  be  expected  to 
find  pleasure  in  a  place  the  resources  of  which  were 
exhausted  long  ago? 

But  have  the  resources  of  the  square  miles  near 
home  been  entirely  exhausted?  Has  it  never  occurred 
to  us  that  there  is  a  possibility  of  seeing  the  familiar 
things  in  a  new  way,  to  say  nothing  of  seeing  among 
them  familiar  sights  that  never  met  our  eyes  before  ? 

Perhaps  the  roads  and  the  streams  and  the  trees 
close  to  our  homes  have  more  to  show  us  and  to  tell 
us  than  we  have  thought.  Let  us  listen  to  them,  and 
so  be  ready  for  the  greater  enjoyment  of  the  scenes 
that  are  near  as  well  as  of  those  that  are  farther  away. 
And  if  there  is  a  time  when  we  cannot  even  go  to  scenes 
around  home,  let  us  keep  in  mind  the  statement  of  W. 
P.  James,  the  English  author  of  the  book,  "The  Lure 
of  the  Map,"  that  if  he  had  to  choose  one  work  to 

5 


FOREWORD 

take  with  him  to  a  desert  island  he  would  take  an  atlas. 
The  title  essay  in  the  volume  dwells  lovingly  on  the 
fascinations  of  the  map.  Have  you  ever  tried  an  atlas 
as  a  substitute  for  an  impossible  vacation  journey? 
It  makes  a  better  substitute  than  many  people 
would  think. 

The  map  should  be  read  in  the  light  of  figures — 
both  arabic  and  rhetorical — like  those  given  by  an  edi- 
torial writer  in  the  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger,  con- 
cerning a  large  portion  of  the  territory  described  in 
Seeing  the  Eastern  States.  He  told  of  "that  most 
extraordinary  natural  division  of  America  known  as 
the  great  coastal  ellipse  that  reaches  from  Maine  to 
Maryland,  with  Portland  and  Washington  as  the  two 
foci,  and  which  takes  in  the  lower  end  of  Maine,  a  third 
of  New  Hampshire,  all  of  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island, 
Connecticut,  New  Jersey  and  Delaware,  with  a  fifth 
of  New  York  State,  a  fourth  of  Pennsylvania  and  a 
half  of  Maryland.  This  geographic  ellipse,  whose  back- 
bone is  the  axis  of  the  ' '  Falls  Line, ' '  on  the  geological 
formation  of  the  continent,  is  an  empire  in  itself,  in 
which  is  found  not  only  more  than  one-fifth  of 
the  population  of  the  country,  but  the  most  daz- 
zling manifestation  of  that  civilization  which  the  world 
calls  American.  .  .  . 

"Within  this  ellipse  is  also  found  a  radiant  coun- 
tryside that  ranges  from  the  mountains  and  lakes  of 
New  England  to  the  Palisades  of  the  Hudson — com- 
pared with  which  the  glories  of  the  Rhine  sink  into 
insignificance — and  the  quieter  rural  beauties  of  the 
rolling  country  round  about  Philadelphia.  And  every- 
where throughout  this  countryside  its  humanization 
has  added  a  touch  of  unusual  charm  to  that  which  is 
beautifu]  in  itself  and  is  a  challenge  to  the  mere  arti- 

6 


FOREWORD 

ficially  arranged  aspects  of  Old  World  landscapes. 

' '  Merely  to  touch  the  fringes  of  the  significance  of 
this  coastal  empire  is  to  stimulate  the  imagination  with 
rarities,  since  within  it  are  not  only  found  the  resources 
of  the  New  World  in  glittering  superabundance  but 
the  rich  spoils  of  the  whole  earth.  It  was  Kipling  who, 
entering  New  York  harbor  on  one  occasion,  saw  there, 
for  the  nonce,  'the  most  stupendous  loot'  man  had  ever 
gathered  together.  But  New  York,  while  the  culmina- 
tion, is  only  part  of  this  coastal  empire  which,  with  the 
capital  of  the  nation  within  its  metes  and  bounds,  deter- 
mines not  only  the  destiny  of  America  but  that  of 
the  world." 

Then  think  of  adding,  to  the  superb  country  de- 
scribed by  the  editorial  writer,  the  remainder  of  Maine, 
New  Hampshire,  New  York,  and  Pennsylvania,  and  all 
of  Vermont — omitting  only  Maryland,  which  has  been 
included  in  an  earlier  volume  in  this  series !  What  an 
opportunity  the  territory  provides  for  the  traveler,  the 
sportsman,  or  the  seeker  after  rest! 

The  author  speaks  gratefully  of  help  received  from 
many  while  he  was  Seeing  the  Eastern  States,  includ- 
ing Colonel  Henry  W.  Shoemaker,  of  McElhattan,  Penn- 
sylvania, L.  K.  Stubbs  of  West  Chester,  Pennsylvania, 
George  P.  Singer  of  St.  David's,  Pennsylvania,  and 
William  F.  Dawson,  of  Lynn,  Massachusetts.  He  says 
" thank  you"  to  Henry  van  Dyke  for  permission  to  use 
poems  quoted  in  this  volume,  and  to  Edward  Stratton 
Holloway  for  the  artistic  beauty  of  the  frontispiece. 

Joes  T.  FAEIS 

PHILADELPHIA, 

APRIL,  1922.  


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    FOLLOWING  THE  RUGGED  COAST  OF  MAINE 15 

II.    THE  ROMANCE  OF  LAFAYETTE  NATIONAL  PARK. .  22 

III.  MOUNT  KTAADN,  THE  HOME  OF  PAMOLA 26 

IV.  THROUGH  MAINE  IN  A  CANOE 32 

V.    SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 36 

VI.    ON  THE  LONG  TRAIL  IN  VERMONT 45 

VII.    BOSTON,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  DOME 50 

LVIII.    ON  THE  ROAD  OUT  OF  BOSTON 54 

IX.    FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD • 60 

X.    THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  BERKSHIRES 72 

XL    FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 78 

XII.    THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 98 

XIII.  ROUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 113 

XIV.  THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 122 

XV.    IN  RIP  VAN  WINKLE'S  CATSKILLS 134 

XVI.    ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  W.ATER 138 

XVII.    IN  ADIRONDACK  WILDS 156 

XVIII.    THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OF  THE  IROQUOIS. . .  163 

(FROM  TROY  TO  BUFFALO) 

XIX.    WHERE  NIAGARA'S  WATERS  PLUNGE 173 

XX.    DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 178 

XXI.    THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 186 

XXII.    ON  DELAWARE'S  WESTERN  SHORE 194 

XXIII.  PHILADELPHIA,  BIRTHPLACE  OF  THE  NATION....  202 

XXIV.  AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 207 

XXV.    IN  EASTERN  PENNSYLVANIA 216 

XXVI.    WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW . .  221 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAQB 

Morning  at  Seaside  Park,  New  Jersey Frontispiece 

From  a  Painting  by  Edward  Stratton  Holloway. 

The    Old    Manse,    Concord,    Massachusetts Title    Vignette 

Drawn   from   a    Photograph    by    Frank    Cousins    Art     Company,    Salem, 
Massachusetts. 

FACING    PAGE 

High  Rock,  Gilead,  Maine ...     16 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Portland  Head,  near  Portland,  Maine 17 

Photograph  from  Chamber  of  Commerce,  Portland. 

Great  Head,  Frenchman's  Bay,  Mount  Desert,  Maine 24 

Photograph  by  George  R.  King;  courtesy  of  National  Park  Service. 

Frenchman's  Bay  from  Cadillac  Mountain,  Mount  Desert,  Maine 25 

Photograph  by  National  Park  Service 

A  Morning  View  into  the  South  Basin,  Mount  Ktaadn,  Maine 30 

Photographed  and  copyrighted  by  William  P.  Dawson 

On  Rocky  Pond,  Maine 32 

Photograph  from  Bangor  and  Aroostook  Railroad. 

Surprising  the  Deer  by  Flashlight 32 

Photograph  by  Mrs.  H.  A.  Colby,  Plainfield,  New  Jersey. 

Poling  up  Milnocket  Stream  34 

Photograph  from  Bangor  and  Aroostook  Railroad. 

Looking  up  Moose  River  to  Brassua  Lake  from  Mount  Kineo 35 

Photograph  from  Bangor  and  Aroostook  Railroad. 

Air  View  of  Concord,  New  Hampshire , . .     38 

Photograph  by  the  Kimball  Studio,  Concord,  New  Hampshire. 

Lost  River,  Issuing  from  Underground  Cavern,  White  Mountains 40 

Photograph  by  United  States  Forest  Service. 

Haying  Season  in  the  White  Mountains.    View  from  Bethlehem,  New 
Hampshire 41 

Photograph  from  New  Hampshire  Department  of  Agriculture. 

View  across  Great  Gulf,  Mount  Washington 41 

Photographed  and  copyrighted  by  William  F.  Dawson. 

In  a  Marble  Quarry,  Rutland,  Vermont 46 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Gathering  Maple  Sap  in  Vermont 46 

The  Camel's  Hump,  Green  Mountains,  Vermont 48 

Photograph  from  the  Secretary  of  State,  Montpelier,  Vermont. 

Mohawk  Valley,  Vermont,  Looking  into  New  Hampshire 49 

Photograph  from  the  New  Hampshire  Department  of  Agriculture. 

Faneuil  Hall,  Boston 50 

Photograph  from  Frank  Cousins  Art  Company,  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

King's  Chapel.  Boston 51 

Photograph  from  Frank  Oouaint  Art  Company,  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

11 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PA3B 

"Elmwood,"  James  Russell  Lowell's  House,  Cambridge,  Massachu- 
setts       51 

Photograph  from  Eugene  J.  Hall,  Oak  Park,  Illinois. 

Interior  of  Old  South  Church,  Newburyport,  Massachusetts 54 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  "Wayside,"  Concord,  Massachusetts 55 

Photograph  from  Halliday  Historic  Photograph  Company,  Boston. 

The  House  of  Seven  Gables.  Salem,  Massachusetts 55 

Photograph  from  Halliday  Historic  Photograph  Company,  Boston. 

The  Adams  Houses,  Quincy,  Massachusetts 63 

The  Quincy  House,  Quincy,  Massachusetts 63 

Photograph  from  Halliday  Historic  Photograph  ..Company,  Boston. 

The  Alden  House,  Duxbury,  Massachusetts 66 

Photograph  from  Halliday  HistoricJPhotograph  Company,  Boston. 

The  Standish  House,  Duxbury,  Massachusetts 66 

Photograph  from  Halliday  Historic  Photograph  Company,  Boston. 

Sand  Dunes,  Provincetown,  Massachusetts 67 

Photograph  from  H.  F.  Hopkins,  Provincetown,  Massachusetts. 

Deerfield  Valley,  West  Deerneld,  Massachusetts 76 

Photograph  from  Boston  and  Maine  Railroad. 

Meanders  of  Mill  River  and  New  Haven,  Connecticut 82 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Rocky  Shore  on  Block  Island 82 

Photograph  by  Professor  J.  W.  Harshberger,  Philadelphia. 

The  Cliff  Walk,  Newport,  Rhode  Island 86 

First  Baptist  Church,  Providence,  Rhode  Island 87 

Photograph  from  Samuel  L.  Bradbury,  Providence,  j 

Whaling  Vessel  at  Nantucket,  Massachusetts 90 

Photograph  by  Professor  J.  W.  Harshberger,  Philadelphia. 

North  Bluff,  Martha's  Vineyard,  Massachusetts 90 

Photograph  by  Professor  J.  W.  Harshberger,  Philadelphia. 

Up  Selden  Creek,  Connecticut  River 96 

Photograph  from  Connecticut  State  Park  Commission. 

On  the  Connecticut  River . . . . , 96 

Photograph  from  the  Secretary  of  State,  Montpelier,  Vermont. 

Municipal  Buildings  and  Campanile,  Springfield,  Massachusetts 102 

Photograph  from  Springfield  Chamber  of  Commerce. 

Miller's  River  at  Royalston,  Massachusetts 103 

Photograph  from  Boston  and  Maine  Railroad. 

The  Tip  of  Manhattan  Island 114 

Photograph  by  Air  Service,  United  States  Army. 

St.  Paul's  Chapel,  New  York  City 115 

t  Photograph  from  Frank  Cousins  Art  Company,  Salem,  Massachusetts. 

El  Capitan,  in  the  Palisades 126 

Photograph  from  Palisades  Interstate  Park  Commission,  New  York  City. 

Bear  Mountain  Landing,  Harriman  Park 127 

Photograph  from  Palisades  Interstate  Park  Commission,  New  York  City. 

12 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

A  Winding  Road  in  Esopus  Valley,  Catskill  Mountains 134 

Photograph  from  New  York  Conservation  Commission. 

Looking  Up  Ausable  Chasm,  New  York 144 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Air  View  of  West  Point,  New  York 144 

Photograph  by  W.  H.  Stockbridge,  West  Point. 

Albany,  New  York.    Looking  up  State  Street 145 

Photograph  by  Stephen  Shreiber. 

The  Narrows,  Lake  George,  New  York 152 

Photograph  from  Delaware  and  Hudson  Railway. 

Avalanche  Lake  in  Winter 156 

Photograph  from  New  York  Conservation  Commission. 

From  the  Summit  of  Mount  Seward,  New  York 157 

Photograph  from  New  York  Conservation  Commission. 

Among  the  Thousand  Islands  on  the  St.  Lawrence  River 160 

Photograph  from  New  York  Conservation  Commission. 

Trenton  Falls,  New  York 166 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Gorge  of  Genesee  River  at  Rochester,  New  York 166 

Photograph  from  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad. 

In  the  Heart  of  Syracuse,  New  York 167 

In  Watkins  Glen,  New  York 170 

Photograph  from  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad. 

Chautauqua  Lake,  New  York 171 

Photograph  from  Erie  Railroad. 

The  Rapids  above  Horseshoe  Falls  at  Niagara 174 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

The  American  Falls  at  Niagara 175 

Photograph  from  Niagara  Gorge  Railroad. 

Looking  Up  the  Boardwalk,  Atlantic  City,  New  Jersey 182 

Photograph  from  Atlantic  City  Publicity  Bureau. 

On  the  Beach  at  Cape  May,  New  Jersey 183 

Photograph  from  Cape  May  Board  of  Trade. 

On  Toms  River,  New  Jersey 184 

Cranberry  Bog,  Mount  Pleasant,  New  Jersey 186 

Photograph  by  Professor  J.  W.  Harshberger,  Philadelphia. 

In  the  Pine  Barrens  of  New  Jersey 186 

Photograph  by  Professor  J.  W.  Harshberger,  Philadelphia. 

In  the  Pines,  Lakewood,  New  Jersey 187 

Photograph  from  Central  Railroad  of  New  Jersey. 

Ford  Mansion,  Morristown,  New  Jersey;  Washington 's  Headquarters. .  190 

Photograph  by  Parker  Studios,  Morristown. 

Graduate  College,  Princeton,  New  Jersey 190 

Photograph  by  Rose,  Princeton. 

On  the  Raritan  River,  New  Jersey 191 

Photograph  from  the  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad. 

13 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PA9B 

In  Cool  Spring  Park,  Wilmington;  Delaware 196 

Photograph  by  Royal  Studios,  Wilmington. 

The  Old  Rodney  House  near  Dover,  Delaware 196 

Photograph  by  R.  C.  Holmes,  Dover. 

Read  House,  New  Castle,  Delaware 197 

Photograph  by  Ph.  B.  Wallace,  Philadelphia. 

The  Parkway,  Philadelphia .  202 

Photograph  by  Ph.  B.  Wallace,  Philadelphia. 

Independence  Hall  looking  toward  Congress  Hall,  Philadelphia 203 

Photograph  by  Ph.  B.  Wallace,  Philadelphia. 

Christ  Church,  Philadelphia .204 

Photograph  by  Ph.  B.  Wallace,  Philadelphia. 

Washington's  Headquarters,  Valley  Forge,  Pennsylvania.  . .  .  205 

Photograph  by  Ph.  B.  Wallace,  Philadelphia. 

Washington  Memorial  Chapel,  Valley  Forge,  Pennsylvania 205 

Giant  Ant  Hills,  Near  Rainsburg,  Pennsylvania 208 

Photograph  by  Pennsylvania  State  Forestry  Department. 

Beaver  Dam,  Cameron  County,  Pennsylvania 208 

Photograph  by  Pennsylvania  State  Forestry  Department. 

A  Western  Pennsylvania  Soft  Coal  Colliery 209 

Photograph  by  United  States  Geological  Survey. 

Blair  Gap,  Pennsylvania 209 

Photograph  by  J.  E.  Green,  Chester,  Pennsylvania. 

Pine  Creek  Gorge,  Pennsylvania 212 

Photograph  by  Pennsylvania  State  Forestry  Department. 

Entrance  to  Perm's  Cave,  Center  County,  Pennsylvania 212 

Photograph  from  Colonel  Henry  W.  Shoemaker. 

Covered  Bridge  over  IGskirninetas,  Saltsburg,  Pennsylvania 218 

Photograph  from  Kiskiminetaa  School. 

West  Entrance  to  Caledonia  Park,  Pennsylvania 218 

Photograph  by  Pennsylvania  State  Highway  Department. 

Night  on  Penn  Street  Bridge,  Reading,  Pennsylvania 219 

Prize  Photograph  by  Nicholas  B.  Phillipson,  Reading. 

The  Smoke  and  the  Rivers  at  Pittsburgh.  Pennsylvania 224 

Photograph  from  Citizens  Committee  on  City  Plan,  Pittsburgh. 

A  Bit  of  the  Five-Mile  River  Front  of  Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania 225 

Photograph  from  Harrisburg  Chamber  of  Commerce 

Canal  Scene  near  Bethlehem .  Pennsylvania 226 

Photograph  from  Lehigh  Valley  Railroad. 

Elephant's  Feet  Rocks,  Mill  Rift,  Pennsylvania 226 

Photograph  from  Erie  Railroad. 

Junction  of  Delaware  and  Neversink  Rivers 227 

Photograph  from  Erie  Railroad 


14 


SEEING   THE    EASTERN 
STATES 

CHAPTER  I 
FOLLOWING  THE  BUGGED  COAST  OF  MAINE 

FROM  Kittery  Point  to  Eastport  is  only  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in  a  direct  line.  But 
let  no  traveler  deceive  himself  into  thinking  it 
will  be  such  a  simple  and  prosy  matter  to  go  from  one 
end  of  Maine's  coastline  to  the  other.  For  there  are 
more  than  twenty-five  hundred  miles  of  shore  line  in  and 
out  of  the  bays  and  inlets,  around  islands,  skirting 
headlands.  The  first  part  of  the  journey  will  seem 
comparatively  simple — for  from  Kittery  Point  to  Casco 
Bay  the  cliffs  and  beaches,  while  abounding  in  scenic 
magnificence,  are  comparatively  sedate*  But  there  is 
no  simplicity  in  the  labyrinth  that  extends  from  Port- 
land to  the  New  Brunswick  line.  To  trace  a  way 
through  this  labyrinth  even  on  a  detailed  map  of  the 
coast  makes  the  heart  of  the  lover  of  the  out-of-doors 
leap.  And  when  cornea  the  long-anticipated  experience 
of  following  the  maze  itself,  standing  on  its  headlands, 
crossing  to  the  islands,  gazing  out  to  the  ocean  dotted 
with  sails,  then  the  pulses  tingle  and  the  blood  seems 
to  course  more  swiftly. 

The  Maine  Coast  begins  where  the  Piscataqua 
River  comes  down  from  Portsmouth  among  rocks  to 

15 


.•••»       •     *      **. 

lSIO?!w/A 

SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  sea,  divided  by  the  island  on  which  is  Newcastle, 
where  the  Peace  of  Portsmouth  was  signed  by  the  rep- 
resentatives of  Russia  and  Japan.  Ten  miles  out  in 
the  ocean  are  the  rocky  Isles  of  Shoals,  part  of  them 
claimed  by  New  Hampshire,  while  part  give  allegiance 
to  Maine.  At  low  tide  there  are  six  of  them,  though 
at  high  tide  there  are  eight.  The  name  of  the  group 
was  given  because  of  great  shoals  of  fish  found  there 
by  the  early  visitors.  Some  of  the  individual  islands 
have  names  equally  descriptive.  Hog  Island — called 
Appledore  Island  on  company  occasions — when  seen 
by  the  approaching  sailor,  is  said  to  look  like  a  hog's 
back  rising  from  the  sea.  Smutty  Nose  also  has  a  com- 
pany name,  Haley's  Island,  but  the  popular  title  tells 
of  a  dangerous  black  point  of  rock  dreaded  by  naviga- 
tors in  these  waters.  The  name  Duck  Island  speaks 
for  itself.  Square  Rock  was  so  named  because  it  is 
nearly  round.  Star  Island  and  Seavey's  Island  and 
White  Island  are  also  in  the  group. 

Summer  visitors  who  cross  to  the  islands  from  the 
mainland  find  relaxation  on  the  rocks  and  in  the  cav- 
erns, in  the  old  church  on  Star  Island,  the  scene  of 
the  labors  of  missionaries  supported  by  the  "Society 
for  Promoting  Religious  Instruction  in  the  Isles 
of  Shoals,"  and  in  the  cemetery  where  stones  erected 
to  the  memory  of  ancient  worthies  tell  of  their  virtues. 
There  is  no  lack  of  employment  for  vacation  days  on 
these  barren  rocks  that  look  like  "the  bald  peaks  of 
a  submerged  volcano,  thrust  upward  out  of  the  water. ' ' 

The  easiest  route  back  to  the  coast  ends  at  the  point 
where  the  study  of  the  shores  should  be  continued,  at 
Kittery  Point,  separated  from  York,  Maine — the  Aga- 
menticus  of  early  days — by  York  River.  Beyond  the 

16 


HIGH  ROCK,  GILEAD,  MAINE 


FOLLOWING  THE  HUGGED  COAST  OF  MAINE 

river  is  famous  York  Beach,  and  five  miles  farther  on 
Bald  Head  Cliff  lifts  its  weather-scarred  side  far  above 
the  surf.  The  mighty  rock  withstands  the  pounding 
of  the  waves,  but  those  who  feel  it  tremble  beneath 
them  wonder  that  it  is  not  destroyed. 

Many  years  ago  Samuel  Adams  Drake  held  that  the 
bit  of  coast  from  York  to  the  region  of  Wells,  is  one 
of  the  finest  bits  of  walking  in  New  England.  And 
from  Wells  through  Kennebunk  Beach  and  Kennebunk- 
port  to  Old  Orchard  and  Cape  Elizabeth,  many  feel 
that  the  way  has  equal  charm. 

Cape  Elizabeth  affords  the  first  prospect  of  Casco 
Bay,  with  rocky  Portland  Head,  crowned  by  the  light- 
house, not  far  distant.  Portland,  the  city  of  Long- 
fellow's youth,  looks  out  from  its  peninsula  on  the 
scores  of  islands  in  the  bay,  inviting  the  visitor  to  climb 
the  hills  at  either  end  of  the  city  and  to  study  houses 
made  famous  by  men  and  women  of  other  generations, 
of  course  including  the  house  where  Longfellow  wrote 
some  of  his  early  poems,  now  set  apart  as  a  memorial 
of  his  life. 

If  there  is  one  feature  of  Casco  Bay  that  deserves 
mention  more  than  another  it  is  Harp  swell  Neck,  a 
point  of  land  that  reaches  out  from  the  mainland  to- 
ward Portland.  A  number  of  islands  lie  between  the 
city  and  the  village  on  the  Neck  which  was  the  scene 
of  the  early  ministry  of  Elijah  Kellogg,  the  author  of 
the  declamation  that  most  boys  have  used,  "Spartacus 
to  the  Gladiators." 

In  all  this  region  history  vies  with  scenery  in  its 
demands  on  the  interest  of  the  visitor.  At  Brunswick, 
where  Lyman  Beecher  was  pastor  of  the  Congrega- 

2  17 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

tional  Church,  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  had  the  first 
inspiration  for  " Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. " 

Near  Brunswick  is  Bath,  in  a  county  whose  name, 
Sagadahoc,  is  a  reminder  of  the  days  when,  in  1605, 
George  Waymouth  named  the  Kennebec  the  Sagada- 
hoc. The  stream  was  known  by  this  name  to  two  early 
colonies  that  settled  along  its  banks,  the  Popham  Col- 
ony of  1607,  whose  members  remained  at  Hunniwell's 
Point  until  they  grew  discouraged  and  returned  to 
England;  and  a  trading  company  from  the  Plymouth 
Colony  which  came  to  the  stream  to  trap  and  trade. 
From  the  gains  of  the  settlement  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
were  able  to  discharge  the  debt  they  owed  to  the  Lon- 
don Company  for  paying  the  expense  of  the  historic 
voyage  of  1620. 

Perhaps  twenty  miles  from  the  site  of  the  ill-starred 
Popham  Colony's  settlement  is  Pemaquid,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Pemaquid  River.  There  a  flourishing  settle- 
ment existed  early  in  the  seventeenth  century;  there 
Samoset,  the  friend  of  the  Pilgrims,  had  his  house,  and 
to  this  place  the  Pilgrims  looked  for  supplies  that  saved 
them  from  starvation.  In  1689  the  Indians  destroyed 
the  flourishing  village.  Later  Fort  William  Henry  was 
built  so  as  to  include  Pemaquid  Rock  within  its  walls, 
and  from  above  the  rock  the  flag  of  Great  Britain 
floated  until  the  French  lowered  it  in  1696.  Another 
fort  was  built  in  1727,  and  other  enemies  came  and  went 
before  it.  Long  since,  however,  enemies  passed  away, 
and  the  peaceful  town  looks  out  on  the  sites  of  the 
forts  of  old,  on  the  beacon  light  that  guides  the  naviga- 
tors, and  on  the  basaltic  bowlders  that  show  the  way  to 
the  inner  harbor. 

18 


FOLLOWING  THE  RUGGED  COAST  OF  MAINE 

Ten  miles  from  Pemaquid  lies  Monhegan  Island, 
which  has  been  called  "the  most  famous  island  on  the 
New  England  map."  On  its  seaward  side  the  surf 
knocks  insistently  on  the  rock-ribbed  barriers  that 
stretch  away  for  several  miles.  On  the  landward  side 
are  the  quieter  waters  where,,  in  1814,  the  American  En- 
terprise engaged  the  British  Boxer  and  won  the  fight, 
though  the  victorious  captain  was  killed  and  was  bur- 
ied in  Portland  by  the  side  of  his  British  foe. 

Northeast  of  the  site  of  the  sea-fight  Penobscot  Bay 
looks  out  on  the  Atlantic  through  its  fingers  of  scattered 
islands.  Some  of  these  islands  boast  the  quarries  from 
which  granite  was  taken  for  government  buildings  in 
Washington  as  well  as  for  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  and  the 
Eads  Bridge  at  St.  Louis. 

In  the  days  of  Sarnoset,  who  traded  much  of  this 
territory  for  a  few  furs,  Camdeii,  on  the  west  side  of 
the  Bay,  was  known  as  Megunticook,  a  name  that  per- 
sists in  Megunticook  Peak,  1457  feet  high,  highest  of 
the  Camden  Hills,  and  the  most  commanding  point  be- 
tween Canada  and  Florida. 

Belfast,  of  shipbuilding  fame,  is  the  last  of  the 
towns  on  the  west  side  of  the  bay  that  claims  Plymouth 
Colony  as  ancestor.  In  1630  Plymouth  granted  land 
for  the  use  of  settlers  below  the  mouth  of  the  Penob- 
scot Eiver. 

It  is  said  that  the  Penobscot  was  the  fabled  Norem- 
bega,  told  of  by  early  French  explorers,  which  led 
to  a  city  of  barbaric  splendor  whose  site  was  indicated 
on  an  Antwerp  map  of  1576.  Thirty-four  years  later 
Champlain  sailed  for  twenty-two  leagues  up  the  river, 
in  search  of  the  fabled  city.  He  found  nothing  but 
wilderness.  If  he  paused  on  his  way  back  at  Castine, 

19 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

opposite  what  is  now  Belfast,  he  would  have  seen  a 
view  of  nobility  sufficient  to  make  most  men  forget  a 
mere  disappointment  in  a  sordid  search  for  gold. 

From  Penobscot  Bay  the  coast  line  is  even  more 
indented  than  before,  because  of  bold  peninsulas,  deep 
inlets  and  islands  of  which  Mount  Desert  is  largest  and 
most  famous. 

On  the  last  of  these — Moose  Island — is  Eastport, 
which  just  manages  to  be  within  the  borders  of  the 
United  States.  For  years  Great  Britain  claimed  the 
island,  though  Massachusetts  incorporated  the  town  in 
1798.  Even  when  the  British  troops  were  about  to 
evacuate  the  island  in  1818,  the  commander  refused  to 
recognize  Eastport,  but  insisted  on  dating  his  letters 
from  Moose  Island,  although  the  replies  were  dated 
from  Eastport! 

Moose  Island  is  nearly  five  miles  long.  At  one  side 
is  towering  Todd's  Head,  several  hundred  feet  high, 
which  reaches  out  into  Passamaquoddy  Bay,  toward 
New  Brunswick.  It  shares  with  West  Quoddy  Head 
in  Lubec,  at  the  other  end  of  the  island,  the  name  "the 
jumping-off  place." 

Northwest  of  Moose  Island  the  St.  Croix  River  en- 
ters Passamaquoddy  Bay.  The  identity  of  the  river 
of  this  name,  mentioned  in  the  Treaty  of  Ghent  as  the 
eastern  boundary  of  the  United  States,  was  long  in 
doubt.  Great  Britian  claimed  that  the  St.  Croix  was 
a  stream  farther  west ;  this  was  her  reason  for  claiming 
Moose  Island.  The  boundary  dispute  was  not  settled 
until  1831,  when  the  king  of  the  Netherlands,  appointed 
arbitrator  between  the  nations  in  accordance  with  the 
provisions  of  the  Treaty  of  Ghent,  awarded  to  the 


FOLLOWING  THE  HUGGED  COAST  OF  MAINE 

United  States  seven-eighths  of  the  territory  between  the 
boundary  desired  by  Great  Britain  and  that  claimed 
by  the  United  States.  If  Great  Britain's  claim  had  been 
allowed  the  territory  of  Maine  would  have  extended 
little  north  of  the  northern  line  of  New  Hampshire. 

And  ever  since  there  has  been  peace  on  the  border, 
as  there  will  surely  be  peace  for  ages  yet  to  come. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  LAFAYETTE  NATIONAL 
PARK,  MOUNT  DESERT 

IT  does  not  seem  natural  to  speak  of  a  National 
Park  in  the  East;  somehow  the  words  take  the 
hearer  in  imagination  to  the  West  where  mountains 
and  lakes,  waterfalls  and  canyons  provide  fit  settings 
for  majestic  playgrounds  of  the  people. 

Yet  since  February  17,  1919,  it  has  been  necessary 
to  revise  such  notions,  for  then  President  Wilson  ap- 
proved the  action  of  Congress  in  setting  apart  as  the 
heritage  of  the  vacation-seeker  and  the  lover  of  nature 
the  most  appealing  portions  of  Mount  Desert, 
the  island  on  the  coast  of  Maine  that  has  excited  the 
wonder  and  admiration  of  visitors,  from  the  days  of 
Champlain,  who,  in  1604,  in  company  with  the  Sieur 
de  Monts,  approached  Mount  Desert  in  wonder  and 
entered  Frenchman's  Bay  with  profound  satisfaction. 
The  Bay  still  has  the  original  name,  just  as  the 
island  bears  to  this  day  a  slight  modification 
of  the  title  given  it  by  Champlain — "PIsle  des  Monts 
Desert, "  the  island  of  the  lonely  mountains. 

Champlain  passed  on,  but  other  Frenchmen  followed 
him.  Nine  years  later  a  shipload  of  emigrants  braved 
the  surf  that  beats  on  the  rocky  precipices,  guardians 
of  the  island,  and  made  a  missionary  settlement  at  the 
entrance  to  Somes  Sound,  the  estuary  to  the  north  of 
Southwest  Harbor  that  has  been  called  "the  one 
true  fiord  on  the  Atlantic  Coast  of  North  America  from 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  LAFAYETTE  NATIONAL  PARK 

Newfoundland  s  outhward. ' '  The  colony — a  part  of  the 
Acadian  settlement — did  not  survive  long,  yet  Park- 
man  declares  that  its  establishment  marked  the  real 
beginning  of  settlements  that  led  to  the  long  conflict 
between  the  French  and  the  English  in  North  America. 

The  next  home-makers  in  the i  l  Isle  of  Enchantment" 
came  from  Massachusetts.  Even  before  1760  some  dar- 
ing pioneers  sought  the  bold  promontories  and  the 
inviting  valleys  of  Mount  Desert. 

Shrewd  Francis  Bernard,  Governor  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay  Colony,  decided  to  do  something  to  claim  the 
Maine  country  for  Massachusetts.  He  did  not  see  why 
he  might  not  at  the  same  time  win  valuable  property 
for  himself.  At  any  rate  he  succeeded  in  persuading 
the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts  to  grant  to  him 
one  half  of  all  Mt.  Desert. 

Governor  Bernard's  dreams  of  an  island  principal- 
ity were  not  to  be  fulfilled.  His  estates  were  confis- 
cated because  of  his  royalist  leanings.  Later,  however, 
he  willed  his  half  of  the  island  to  his  son  John.  The 
General  Court  confirmed  the  claim  of  the  son  when  he 
proved  his  loyalty  to  the  Colonies,  but  he  chose  to 
mortgage  his  possessions  for  a  small  sum  that  he  might 
make  his  home  in  England. 

In  the  days  following  the  Revolution  Mount  Desert 
real  estate  was  in  demand.  In  1785  there  appeared  a 
claimant  for  all  of  the  island  in  the  person  of  Bartol- 
emy  de  Gregoire,  who  came  from  France  with  his  wife. 
He  declared  that  a  grant  of  the  island  had  been  made 
by  Louis  XIV  to  her  grandfather,  Antoine  de  la  Motte 
Cadillac,  later  the  founder  of  Detroit.  A  letter  from 
Lafayette  urged  the  favorable  consideration  of  the  pe- 
tition. The  plea  of  the  Frenchman  who  had  done  so 

23 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

much  for  the  Colonies  was  not  to  be  resisted,  and  that 
part  of  the  land  then  in  possession  of  the  state  was 
transferred  to  the  heir. 

The  "French  adventurer "  lived  for  a  time  at  Hull's 
Cove,  then  a  few  miles  northwest  of  the  later  location 
of  Bar  Harbor.  Gradually  he  let  his  vast  estate  slip 
from  him.  The  last  sale,  made  by  Henry  Jackson  for 
£1247,  included  twelve  islands,  which  contained  in  all 
more  than  twenty-five  hundred  acres. 

Once  Bar  Harbor  stood  for  Mount  Desert  but  the 
lovers  of  the  wild  have  entered  coves  and  harbors  all 
around  the  scores  of  miles  of  serrated  coast.  Now  they 
seek  Northeast  Harbor  and  Seal  Harbor,  Southwest 
Harbor  and  Somesville.  But  why  name  a  few  choice 
resorts  when  all  the  island  is  an  alluring  treasurehouse 
of  ponds  and  lakes  and  craggy  mountains ;  streams  and 
cliffs  and  mysterious  defiles ;  trees  and  flowers  and  lux- 
uriant undergrowth?  It  is  possible  to  travel  twenty 
miles  in  one  direction  and  twenty  miles  in  another  di- 
rection, over  this  marvelous  land  of  about  one  hundred 
square  miles,  and  to  discover  many  surprises  in  every 
mile.  There  is  the  Sea  Wall,  a  cliff  several  miles  be- 
low Southwest  Harbor,  where  the  breakers  dash  in 
fury.  The  granite  Otter  Cliff  is  approached  from  the 
famous  ocean  drive.  Above  one  of  the  most  delightful 
of  these  ocean  drives  the  Cadillac  Trail  surmounts  a 
sturdy  sea  cliff. 

The  Green  Mountain  Trail  looks  down  on  Otter 
Creek,  a  little  harbor  whose  limits  are  fixed  by  great 
headlands  that  are  fit  company  for  heights  said  to  be 
among  the  greatest  between  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the 
Amazon.  Pemetic  Mountain,  one  of  the  commanding 
heights  of  an  island  distinguished  by  the  only  mouij- 


GREAT  HEAD,  GUARDING  THE  ENTRANCE  TO  FRENCHMAN'S  BAY,  MT.  DESERT 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  LAFAYETTE  NATIONAL  PARK 

tains  that  approach  the  Atlantic  coast,  looks  down  on  a 
wild,  deep  gorge  and  over  Eagle  Lake  to  where  Bar  Har- 
bor seeks  the  water.  Below  the  Gouldsboro  Hills  lies 
Upper  Frenchman's  Bay,  while  close  to  the  bay  is  an- 
other gorge,  whose  deep  passage  through  the  rocks 
provides  a  way  from  Bar  Harbor  to  the  southern  shore 
of  the  island. 

The  lovers  of  Mount  Desert's  unparalled  scenery 
long  ago  determined  that  it  must  revert  to  the  people 
who  so  prodigally  parted  with  it  to  the  Tory  governor 
and  the  French  adventurer.  They  wished  to  see  it 
made  a  national  vacation  ground,  a  sanctuary  for  the 
birds  that  pause  here  in  their  migrations,  a  refuge  for 
the  fur-bearing  animals  that  once  lived  securely  in  the 
streams  and  the  ponds.  Gradually  they  gained  title 
to  thousands  of  acres,  laid  out  trails  and  roads  which 
made  practicable  trips  into  the  interior  and  along  the 
coast,  while  these  did  not  detract  from  the  wild  beauty 
of  the  surroundings,  and  finally  they  prevailed  on  the 
United  States  to  take  over  the  lands  for  the  people. 

This  patriotic  gift  to  the  nation  became  then  the 
nucleus  of  the  Lafayette  National  Park,  which  contains 
great  tracts  deeds  to  which  were  made  by  the  heirs 
of  William  Bingham  of  Philadelphia.  And  Bingham 
gained  title  from  the  Henry  Jackson  who  bought  the 
last  of  the  holdings  of  De  Gregoire ! 


CHAPTER  III 

MOUNT  KTAADN,  THE  HOME  OF  PAMOLA 

WON'T  it  be  good  when  the  tourist  can  steal 
on  Mount  Ktaadn  in  an  automobile  f "  a 
thoughtless  man  said  to  the  lover  of  the 
Maine  wilderness. 

* '  In  an  automobile ! ' '  was  the  response.  '  *  An  auto- 
mobile road  to  the  most  wonderful  mountain  east  of 
the  Rockies,  the  most  resplendent  of  Maine's  hidden 
glories?  It  is  unthinkable  that  there  should  be  a  turn- 
pike to  the  skirt  of  the  peaks  where,  according  to 
Abenakis  legend,  mysterious  Pamola  had  her  awesome 
residence  and  held  her  dread  court! 

"Let  automobiles  come  within  a  few  miles,  if  this 
must  be.  But  it  would  be  folly  to  talk  of  doing  more 
than  improve  the  final  stretches  of  the  trail  so  that 
packhorses  could  follow  them  in  security.  Then  we 
can  continue  to  approach  the  marvel  of  the  wilderness 
with  reverence;  we  can  be  still  as  successive  visions  of 
the  Creator's  majesty  unfold  to  view;  we  can  rejoice 
in  the  knowledge  that  there  is  a  spot,  within  easy  reach 
of  Boston  or  New  York,  where  the  tumult  and  the 
shouting  will  be  forgotten  in  dreamy  hours  of  commun- 
ion with  tremendous  rocky  precipices,  limpid  upland 
lakes,  and  lofty  sky  pastures  so  recently  trodden  by 
the  caribou ;  we  can  rouse  in  the  night  at  the  sullen  roar 
of  the  avalanche,  and  pass  the  golden  mountain  days 
amid  the  deposits  that  hide  the  secrets  of  the  glacial 
geology  of  northern  Maine." 

26 


MOUNT  KTAADN,  THE  HOME  OF  PAMOLA 

Modern  improvements  within  the  sacred  precincts 
of  Ktaadn  seem  to  such  enthusiasts  as  profane  as  the 
attempt  to  call  the  mountain  Katahdin.  "Call  it 
Ktaadn, "  they  say,  "and  so  do  your  best  to  repro- 
duce in  a  single  syllable  the  pronunciation  of  the  Indians 
as  they  told  of  their  highest  land.  These  savages  had 
such  boundless  reverence  for  the  mountain  that  when, 
in  1804,  Charles  Turner,  the  first  white  man  to  make 
the  perilous  ascent,  approached  the  peak,  the  native 
guides  refused  to  climb  with  him  to  Pamola's  dwelling- 
place.  The  angry  being,  who  had  the  body  of  a  man 
and  the  head  of  a  great  eagle,  would  send  dire  punish- 
ment upon  them !  Every  avalanche  told  of  his  displeas- 
ure, the  thunder's  roar  was  the  story  of  his  wrath,  and 
the  lightnings  were  only  the  flashing  of  his  all-see- 
ing eyes." 

The  Indians  have  departed,  but  the  glory  of  Ktaadn 
remains,  hidden  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  lake-girt  wil- 
derness, luring  the  dweller  in  the  haunts  of  bustle  and 
confusion,  promising  untold  satisfaction  to  those  who 
are  not  dismayed  by  the  thought  of  the  days  of  toil 
in  the  canoe  and  on  the  trail  that  are  its  allies 
as  it  maintains  its  distance  from  the  heedless  and 
the  irreverent. 

Today  many  approach  the  sacred  mountain  by  the 
West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot  River,  the  route  chosen 
long  ago  by  Henry  D.  Thoreau.  But  some  prefer  to 
vary  the  route  by  going  from  Lily  Bay  or  Moosehead 
Lake,  then  by  automobile  to  Kokad-jo  or  first  Eoach 
Pond,  then  to  Ripogenus,  entering  the  West  Branch 
at  Ripogenus  Gorge,  one  of  the  renowned  sights  of  the 
wilderness.  From  this  the  way  is  down  river,  past 

27 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Monument  Bock,  to  the  mountain,  or  still  farther  down 
to  Abol  Falls,  and  up  the  Abol  trail  to  the  summit. 

Some  may  say  that  this  is  nothing  but  a  tiresome 
list  of  names.  Not  to  the  men  or  women  who  have  per- 
mitted the  fever  of  the  wild  to  have  its  way  in  the 
heart !  They  are  not  ashamed  to  tell  how  the  blood  is 
stirred  by  the  mere  tracing  of  the  course  to  the  moun- 
tain on  a  detail  map  of  Maine.  How  they  pity  those 
for  whom  that  map  is  dumb,  lifeless.  To  them  it  whis- 
pers of  the  forest  trail;  it  speaks  eloquently  of  the 
canoe  gliding  swiftly  on  the  surface  of  the  still  reaches 
of  the  stream,  or  poising  for  a  dash  through  the  rap- 
ids ;  it  thunders  with  the  waters  as  they  fall  from  the 
river  into  the  lake. 

After  the  canoe  trip  amid  the  secrets  of  lakes  and 
falls  and  rivers  comes  the  trail  with  its  fascinating 
glimpses  of  mountain  glory,  glimpses  that  finally — if 
the  enshrouding  mists  are  kind — melt  into  the  soul-sat- 
isfying view  of  the  monarch  whose  granite  slopes  rise 
5,268  feet  above  the  sea,  without  foothills  or  near  moun- 
tain neighbors  to  take  away  from  its  solitary  grandeur. 

The  mountain  thus  disclosed  has  been  described 
vividly  for  the  author  by  William  F.  Dawson,  artist- 
explorer,  whose  wonderful  photographs  of  Ktaadn 
plead  insistently  with  those  who  see  them  to  go  into  the 
wilderness  and  feel  the  mountain : 

"Imagine  a  giant  starfish,  the  back  of  which  is  a 
nearly  level  plateau  forty-three  hundred  feet  above  sea 
level  and  more  than  five  hundred  acres  in  extent.  The 
arms  to  the  west  and  south  stretch  out  radially  as  great 
ridges  to  the  plain  below,  while  between  are  gullies  or 
ravines  so  steep  as  to  be  unclimbable  save  for  the  two 
or  three  slides.  An  arm  from  the  southeast  corner 

28 


MOUNT  KTAADN,  THE  HOME  OF  PAMOLA 

extends  on  a  great  curve  first  east  and  then  north  until 
it  has  merely  encircled  the  natural  amphitheatre  known 
as  the  Great  or  South  Basin.  That  basin  is  two  and 
one  half  miles  from  north  to  south  and  one  and  three 
quarter  miles  from  east  to  west.  The  ridge  carries 
the  Main  Summit,  5268  feet;  the  East  Peak,  5255  feet; 
Chimney  Peak,  about  4700  feet;  and  Pamola,  4800  feet. 
Near  the  Main  Peak  a  minor  ridge  runs  north  into  the 
Basin,  and  the  part  thus  set  off  constitutes  an  enormous 
horseshoe  with  the  opening  almost  due  north.  In  the 
middle  of  the  horseshoe  is  Chimney  Pond,  2900  feet  in 
elevation,  and  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  granite 
walls  that  rise  almost  perpendicularly  for  2000  feet 
and  more. 

"From  the  northern  end  of  the  plateau  a  ridge  or 
elevation  extends  three  or  four  miles  to  the  north  and 
northeast,  finally  descending  to  the  plain  in  gentle 
slopes.  It  carries  three  slight  elevations  of  about 
4700  feet  total  altitude  known  as  the  North  Peaks. 
Three  miles  north  of  the  Main  Peak  the  North  Basin 
extends  east  for  a  mile  and  a  half.  Its  floor  is  3700 
feet  elevation  and  its  width  about  a  mile.  Like  the 
South  Basin,(  its  plan  view  is  a  horseshoe,  and  its  north- 
ern walls  are  so  steep  that  avalanches  are  of  fre- 
quent occurrence." 

That  description  was  written  after  a  succession  of 
ascents  which  failed  to  yield  photographs  satisfactory 
to  the  mountaineer;  he  had  been  able  to  go  only  in 
August,  when  the  advancing  season  makes  the  trail  less 
difficult.  But  he  resolved  to  go  in  early  June,  that  he 
might  surprise  the  sun  in  the  depths  of  the  great  Basin. 
This  trip  was  made  in  1920,  after  the  winter  of  Maine's 
greatest  snowfall  in  fifty  years.  With  one  companion 

29 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

he  pushed  on  in  the  face  of  difficulties  that  seemed 
almost  unsurmountable,  and  succeeded  in  finding  the 
sun  ready  to  make  the  photograph  that  accompanies 
this  chapter. 

The  beginning  of  what  Mr.  Dawson  has  called  "a 
week  of  romance "  was  at  Staceyville,  on  the  Bangor 
and  Aroostook  Railroad.  He  had  chosen  the  Lunksoos 
Trail,  by  way  of  the  East  Branch  of  the  Penobscot, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  river  was  too  deep  to  ford 
and  the  brooks  were  full.  His  companion,  a  seasoned 
woodsman,  thought  it  possible  to  make  the  thirty  miles 
to  the  mountain,  if  they  would  "travel  light." 

The  first  night  was  spent  at  the  Hunt  Place  of  which 
Thoreau  told  so  long  ago.  Lunch  next  day  was  eaten 
at  the  DeviPs  Elbow,  scene  of  the  death  of  scores  of 
river-drivers  who  ventured  too  much  in  their  efforts 
to  break  timber  jams  in  Wissataquoik. 

Ktaadn  Lake  is  on  the  Lunksoos  Trail.  There  the 
party  ate  their  dinner  of  fish,  taken  in  what  is  known 
as  one  of  the  unspoiled  fishing  places  of  Maine.  Sport 
is  good  in  that  region,  for  there  also  are  bear  near  the 
lakes,  though  not  enough  of  them  to  satisfy  all  hunters. 
The  men  bound  for  the  mountain  were  told  of  two 
trappers  who  had  gone  away  disgusted  because  they 
had  secured  only  four  of  the  beasts ! 

From  Sandy  Stream  Pond  there  is  a  stiff  climb  of 
fourteen  hundred  feet  within  three  or  four  miles.  The 
necessity  of  cutting  a  trail  through  fallen  trees  added  to 
the  difficulties  of  the  way,  but  these  merely  prepared 
the  men  for  real  enjoyment  of  their  sleep  that  night 
on  a  bed  of  balsam  boughs,  under  a  four  pound  tent. 

At  length  the  climbers  started  over  the  mountain, 
for  it  was  their  purpose  to  descend  on  the  other  side 

30 


A  MORNING  VIEW  INTO  THE  SOUTH  BASIN,  MT.  KTAADN,  FROM  CHIMNEY  POND 
Photographed  and  Copyrighted  by  William  F.  Dawson 


•'     i 
?     * 


MOUNT  KTAADN,  THE  HOME  OF  PAMOLA 

and  go  on  to  the  West  Branch.  The  first  part  of  the 
journey,  to  the  Eidge,  was  made  by  a  route  probably 
never  before  taken.  The  only  way  to  pass  through  the 
stunted  spruce  on  the  plateau  beyond  the  Eidge  was 
along  the  old  caribou  trail.  This  led  on  toward  Abol 
Slide,  which,  from  the  top,  looks  as  if  it  had  no  bottom. 
"Near  the  top  a  number  of  huge  bowlders  are  fastened 
together,  in  some  indescribable  way  that  bars  the  path 
except  for  an  opening  near  the  base  known  as  the 
Needle's  Eye.  The  smaller  rocks  are  not  so  well  an- 
chored and  one  must  proceed  with  extreme  caution, 
lowering  himself  from  rock  to  rock  and  only  occasion- 
ally taking  a  few  steps  on  the  steep  granite  gravel." 

The  night  was  spent  on  a  level  spot,  in  a  cabin  of 
the  Maine  Forestry  Commission.  Next  day  the  ardu- 
ous climb  down  the  slide  was  continued  luntil  Milli- 
nocket  Tote  Eoad  greeted  the  men  of  the  trail,  and  led 
them  on  to  the  West  Branch.  There  they  took  to  the 
water  and  marvelled  that  "no  modern  machinery  func- 
tions more  beautifully  than  the  children  of  the  forest 
when  handling  a  canoe." 

Ambejrjis  Lake  and  Pemadumcook  Lake  were  wait- 
ing for  the  pilgrims  of  1920,  as  for  Thoreau  in  1846. 
But  a  little  later  they  entered  the  train  that  would 
have  been  disdained  by  the  earlier  visitor.  And  next 
day  the  photographer  was  back  in  the  city,  while 
his  guide  was  making  ready  for  more  of  the  visitors 
who  have  learned  to  hearken  to  the  call  of  the 
Maine  Wilderness. 


CHAPTEB  IV 

THROUGH  MAINE  IN  A  CANOE 

IT  is  not  strange  that  Massachusetts  tried  her  best 
to  hold  fast  to  Maine.  For  nearly  fifty  years  she 
resented  the  proposed  separation  of  her  posses- 
sion to  the  north  from  the  day,  in  1775,  when  Governor 
Bowdoin  spoke  of  the  design  of  these  countries  to  set 
up  a  separate  government,  as  "of  very  evil  tendency." 

Opposition  might  have  been  even  more  spirited  if 
anyone  had  foreseen  the  day  when  the  demand  for 
lumber  would  make  invaluable  the  stores  of  timber  so 
vast  that,  even  after  years  of  wasteful  cutting,  there 
still  remain  thousands  of  square  miles  of  dense  wood- 
land. No  one  dreamed  of  the  harnessing  of  water 
power  like  that,  for  instance,  at  Lewiston,  where  there 
are  thirteen  thousand  horse  power,  and  this  is  but  one 
of  the  vast  developments,  actual  and  possible,  in  a 
state  where  there  is  said  to  be  more  undeveloped  water 
power  than  in  any  other  section  of  the  eastern  part  of 
the  country. 

The  commercial  and  economic  possibilities  of  Maine 
are  great,  but  in  the  mind  of  many  they  are  overshad- 
owed by  the  thought  that  this  is  the  country  for  the 
sportsman.  To  these  the  great  trees  of  the  endless 
forests  that  rise  like  needles  toward  the  sky  speak,  not 
of  lumber,  but  of  the  camp,  and  the  moose,  and  the 
trail,  and  the  matchless  music  made  by  the  wind  as  it 
sighs  through  the  branches.  The  lakes  and  the  rivers 


SUPPER  ON  ROCKY  POND,  MAINE 


SURPRISING  THE   DEER  BY  FLASHLIGHT 


THROUGH  MAINE  IN  A  CANOE 

say  nothing  of  commerce;  their  message  is  for  the 
fisherman  and  the  master  of  the  fragile  canoe. 

An  editorial  writer  in  the  New  York  Times  once 
said,  "No  man  in  Maine  can  walk  abroad  in  his  sleep 
without  risking  a  fall  into  lake  water. "  And  it  is 
almost  as  difficult  to  avoid  catching  fish  in  these  lakes. 
They  say  that  some  anglers  at  Rangeley  Lakes  refuse 
to  take  home  trout  under  three  pounds  in  weight ;  they 
throw  them  back  that  the  fish  may  have  time  to  grow 
up !  Yet  it  must  not  be  thought  that  the  fish  are  caught 
so  easily  that  there  is  no  sport  in  their  conquest. 

The  woods  are  full  of  deer,  and  the  moose  await  the 
coming  of  those  who  seek  them  with  camera :  there  is 
no  open  season  for  these  monarchs  of  the  forest,  though 
the  hunter  is  permitted  to  kill  two  deer  in  the  brief 
season.  There  is  no  close  season  on  bears  or  bobcats ; 
in  fact  that  is  a  state  bounty  to  those  who  bring  in 
their  pelts. 

But  the  great  sport  in  Maine  is  canoeing.  A  map 
of  the  possible  canoe  routes  in  the  state  looks  like  the 
astronomer's  chart  of  the  canals  on  Mars.  Some  of 
them,  isolated,  are  in  the  southwest  section  of  the  state, 
but  most  of  them  are  in  the  wilderness  country  farther 
north.  There  they  connect  and  interlock  so  completely 
that  it  is  possible  to  travel  close  to  a  thousand  miles 
in  this  alluring  fashion,  usually,  in  the  season,  within 
easy  reach  of  camps  and  guides  and  assistance  in  trans- 
porting supplies  and  canoes  over  the  larger  carries. 

One,  of  the  milder  canoeing  ventures  may  be  made 
on  the  Kennebec,  both  below  and  above  Augusta,  the 
old  Koussinoc  of  the  Abenakis.  A  second  canoeing 
ground  is  Lake  Sebago,  which  Portland  claims  as  her 
own  particular  lake.  Its  picturesque  rock-bound  shores, 

8  33 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

where  trees  find  precarious  foothold,  are  as  attractive 
for  the  tourist  who  wishes  to  feast  his  eyes  on  the 
glories  about  him,  as  are  the  fish  in  the  deep  waters 
for  those  who  prefer  to  think  of  a  feast  later  by  the 
camp  fire. 

A  vacation  experience  for  the  more  ambitious  is 
offered  by  the  Rangeley  Lake  chain,  which  includes 
Lake  Umbagog  in  New  Hampshire.  Once  a  visitor 
declared,  "Who  has  not  seen  Rangeley  is  disqualified 
for  speaking  on  New  England's  scenic  beauty. "  Then 
he  went  on  to  tell  how  it  appealed  to  every  sense:  "to 
the  sight,  with  crystal  waters  and  spire-like  pines,  cov- 
ering strange,  half -penetrable  shadows ;  to  the  hearing, 
with  those  sounds  which  only  the  trained  woodsmen 
can  interpret ;  to  the  smell,  with  odors  replete  with  as- 
sociations ;  and  to  the  touch,  with  the  cool  cleanliness 
of  the  forests  and  breezes  that  are  only  the  undertone 
of  the  great,  free  woods  that  never  sleep,  but  are  for- 
ever rocking  the  tops  of  the  loftiest  trees  and  drawing 
the  scudding  clouds  across  the  mountain  peaks. " 

The  sportsman  who  has  fished  and  canoed  on 
Eangeley  will  have  abundant  appetite  for  the  yet 
greater  fascination  of  the  more  northerly  canoe  routes. 
Of  these  that  down  the  Allagash  River  is  by  many  held 
to  be  the  most  wonderful  trip  of  its  kind  on  the  con- 
tinent. Two  hundred  and  three  miles  of  river  and  lake, 
of  falls  and  rapids,  of  carries  through  the  forest,  of 
camps  amid  the  silent  solitude  of  the  Maine  woods! 
Women  as  well  as  men  make  the  journey,  which  requires 
at  least  eight  days,  though  it  is  far  better  to  take  four 
weeks  and  give  opportunity  for  wilderness  joy  to  soak 
in  so  that  it  will  never  come  out. 

The  starting  point  is  on  Moosehead  Lake,  which 

84 


THROUGH  MAINE  IN  A  CANOE 

Thoreau  called  "a  suitably  wild-looking  sheet  of  water, 
sprinkled  with  small,  low  islands,  covered  with  shaggy 
spruce  and  other  wildwood."  Years  have  passed,  but 
the  general  aspect  of  the  country  is  much  as  it  was 
when  Thoreau  paddled  over  its  waters.  Mount  Kineo 
still  frowns  down  on  the  lake,  which  is  of  princely  size 
— twelve  miles  wide  and  thirty  miles  long. 

The  West  Branch  of  the  Penobscot  approaches 
within  a  few  miles  of  Moosehead.  Northeast  Carry  is 
the  attractive  name  given  to  the  portage  that  opens  the 
way  to  twenty  miles  of  delightful  river  journeying. 
And  this  is  only  the  beginning.  Chesuncook  Lake 
leads  to  Umbazooksus  Stream,  and  Umbazooksus 
Lake.  Carries  varying  from  ten  rods  to  a  mile  are  the 
links  that  unite  the  lake  and  river.  When  Allagash 
River  is  entered,  the  journey  is  interrupted  only  by  the 
Falls  until  the  St.  John  River  is  reached  at  Fort  Kent. 
But  even  then  attractions  do  not  cease.  Across  the 
stream  in  New  Brunswick  live  descendants  of  the 
Acadians,  and  twelve  miles  down  the  St.  John  are  the 
Grand  Falls,  where  water  power  waits  for  complete 
development  that  will  give  astonishing  results.  On 
the  American  side  is  Aroostook  County,  the  famous 
potato-raising  region  where  a  farmer  has  succeeded 
in  growing  2672  bushels  in  a  five-acre  plot. 

The  St.  John  River  itself  offers  a  canoe  trip  even 
longer  than  the  Allagash,  a  trip  full  of  thrills  and  sur- 
prises for  more  than  two  hundred  miles.  Then,  for 
variety,  there  is  the  journey  up  the  West  Branch  of  the 
Penobscot,  and  that  on  the  East  Branch,  and  numer- 
ous side  trips  among  the  lakes  and  rivers  which  have 
names  as  strange  and  scenery  as  inviting  as  those  on 
the  longer  routes. 


CHAPTER  V 

SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

TO   many   people   New  Hampshire   means    the 
White  Mountains,  and  Lake  Winnepesankee ; 
and  it  does  not  occur  to  them  that  it  is  worth 
their  while  to  know  anything  about  parts  of  the  state 
not  included  in  the  wonderful  mountain  section,  except 
as  they  are  compelled  to  cross  a  few  counties  more  or 
less  on  the  way  to  the  lake  whose  name  twists  in  accord- 
ance with  the  contour  of  its  shore  line,  or  to  the  moun- 
tains that  pierce  the  clouds  to  the  north  of  the  lake. 

Yet  New  Hampshire  has  much  to  offer  the  visitor 
who  is  willing  to  be  leisurely,  who  is  ready  to  saunter 
along  the  roads  that  are  so  wonderfully  fine  for  the 
automobile.  But  think  of  the  other  roads  on  which 
the  driver  of  an  automobile  would  not  dream  of  going! 
Think  also  of  the  tracks  and  paths,  as  well  as  of  the 
woodlands  by  the  roadside ! 

Portsmouth  is  a  fine  starting  point  either  for  the 
automobilist  or  for  the  walker.  But  even  here  the 
walker  has  the  advantage,  for  he  can  seek  out 
picturesque  corners  that  are  hidden  from  the  tour- 
ist who  travels  more  prosaically.  He  will  find 
lanes  bordered  by  nameless  old  houses,  with  door- 
ways and  porticoes  over  which  the  architect  would 
rave,  as  well  as  splendid  trees  that  lean  affectionately 
toward  their  neighbors  or  guard  the  gateways  to  gar- 
dens that  speak  of  past  generations.  He  will  find 
churches  whose  architeicture  would  loudly  proclaim 

36 


SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

their  New  England  origin  even  if  they  could  be  trans- 
ported a  thousand  miles  away.  He  will  pause  before 
the  historic  Warner  house,  with  its  stately  row  of  five 
dormer  windows  facing  the  street,  and  the  curious  octa- 
gon lantern  on  the  roof,  or  will  wander  into  the  spa- 
cious grounds  of  the  rambling,  many-gabled  Wentworth 
house  that  is  eloquent  with  the  legend  of  the  fair  Amy 
who  became  the  wife  of  Governor  Banning  Wentworth, 
to  the  surprise  of  all  her  friends  as  well  as  his  own, 
thus  giving  the  Quaker  Poet  the  theme  for  the  ballad 
that  ends — 

"  Oh,  rank  is  good,  and  gold  is  fair, 

And  high  and  low  mate  ill; 

But  love  has  never  known  a  law 

Beyond  its  own  sweet  will." 

Let  the  first  walk  from  Portsmouth  be  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Exeter,  home  of  Phillips  Exeter  Academy, 
enshrined  in  the  affections  of  many  because  of  the 
great  men  who — like  George  Bancroft — passed  from 
its  doors  to  win  fame  for  themselves  and  be  a  blessing 
to  the  country. 

There  is  a  roundabout  automobile  road  from  Exe- 
ter, through  bustling  Manchester,  to  the  region  of  Am- 
herst,  birthplace  of  Horace  Greeley,  serene  in  its  set- 
ting among  the  hills.  But  it  is  so  much  better  to  disregard 
roads  and  take  a  route  through  Danville  and  Derry 
to  Litchfield,  where  the  brooks  that  play  among  the 
trees  contest  with  the  village  the  right  to  first  attention. 

From  Litchfield  the  road  is  short  to  Milf  ord,  on  the 
Souhegan  River,  tributary  of  the  Merrimac.  The  stone 
bridge,  the  tumbling  waters,  the  square  with  its  inter- 
lacing trees,  the  hills  around  about,  and  the  roads  that 

37 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

rise  and  fall  like  the  billows  of  the  sea,  make  such  an 
appealing  series  of  pictures  that  it  is  a  temptation  to 
feel  that  the  Granite  State  can  offer  nothing  finer  than 
this  section  of  the  southern  hill  country. 

Mistake!  Go  on,  still  "  across  lots,"  to  Mount 
Monadnock,  the  lonely  sentinel  mountain,  visible  from 
seven  states,  famous  landmark  of  the  Indians,  cele- 
brated alike  by  poets  and  essayists  and  artists. 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne  spoke  of  it  as  * 'a  sapphire  cloud 
against  the  sky." 

A  few  miles  from  Monadnock  are  the  Swanzeys, 
among  their  ponds,  all  famous  because  one  of  them, 
West  Swanzey,  was  the  original  village  of  Denman 
Thompson's  Old  Homestead. 

At  West  Swanzey,  on  the  Ashland  River,  the  man 
of  leisure  finds  a  series  of  rambles  along  the  streams 
and  ponds,  with  bits  of  country  between,  that  will  lead 
at  length  to  the  Contoocook  Eiver. 

Down  below  the  point  of  union  of  the  Contoocook 
and  the  Merrimac,  Concord  proudly  guards  the  banks 
of  the  stream,  its  cosy  streets  and  its  inviting  homes 
the  fit  setting  for  the  old  state  house. 

From  Concord  there  is  no  better  way  to  approach 
the  famous  lakes  of  central  New  Hampshire  than  along 
the  Merrimac.  For  those  who  must  use  a  road,  there 
is  a  good  highway  along  the  river  to  Franklin,  then 
close  to  the  outlet  of  Winnisquam  Lake  that  enters  the 
stream  at  this  point.  But  for  those  who  have 
learned  the  keen  delight  of  " stream  following,"  the 
road  has  no  attractions. 

Winnisquam  Lake,  where  the  loon  sends  out  its 
weird  call  and  the  fish  bite  with  pleasant  freedom,  is 
the  portal  to  the  still  greater  glories  of  Winnepesaukee, 


SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

queen  of  New  Hampshire  lakes,  which  the  Indians 
called  "The  Smile  of  the  Great  Spirit. "  Like  a  great 
octopus  it  spreads  its  tentacles  out  into  the  surround- 
ing country.  Intricate  shore  lines;  broad  reaches 
where  the  motor  boat  pounds  freely  along  for  miles ; 
narrow  channels  where  the  shores  crowd  close  together; 
islands  wooded,  rocky,  mysterious;  bays  that  lead  to 
green  slopes  where  farm  lands  cluster  around  a  village 
clothed  in  white;  and  beaches,  where  bathers  throng; 
jutting  headlands  where  the  wind  moans  among  the 
branches  of  the  pines ;  retired  nooks  where  the  sports- 
man drifts  in  his  dory,  almost  too  lazy  to  draw  in  the 
fish  that  would  rouse  him  to  action. 

One  of  the  greatest  charms  of  Lake  Winnepesaukee 
— or  Winipissioket  Pond,  as  it  was  called  on  an  early 
map — is  the  distant  view  of  peaks  of  the  White  Moun- 
tains. Forest-covered  Ossippee  and  Bed  Hill,  the  peaks 
of  the  Sandwich  Range,  and  Belknap  are  visible  from 
various  points.  Mount  Chocorua  shows  up  at  a  dis- 
tance from  Three  Mile  Island,  where  the  Appalachian 
Mountaineers  have  a  club-house.  Members  gathered 
there  about  the  camp  fire  have  discussed  the  fascinat- 
ing story  of  the  naming  of  the  mountain  to  the  north, 
which  cannot  be  told  without  speaking  of  Passacona- 
way,  Wonnalancet  and  Kankamagus.  These  Indians 
and  their  associates  wandered  here  and  there  among 
the  valleys  and  the  lakes  and  climbed  the  slopes  of  the 
mountains  that  cluster  in  such  splendid  array  for 
sixty  miles  and  more  north  of  Winnepesaukee  and 
almost  entirely  across  the  narrowing  width  of  New 
Hampshire  between  the  Connecticut  River  and  the 
slopes  that  look  off  toward  the  Saco  and  beautiful  Up- 
per Kezar  Pond,  just  over  the  boundary  line  of  Maine. 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

A  map  of  1776  called  the  Saco  the  Pigwakket.  The 
same  name  was  given  to  the  mountain  now  called  Choc- 
orua,  in  memory  of  a  powerful  chieftain  who  lived  near 
its  base. 

With  a  modesty  that  is  difficult  to  understand,  the 
early  settlers  called  the  mountains  as  a  whole  the 
"  White  Hills. "  Evidently  they  did  not  realize  that 
many  of  them  range  in  height  from  four  thousand  to 
six  thousand  feet  or  even  more.  The  Indians  were  less 
prosaic;  their  name  was  "The  Mountains  with  Snowy 
Foreheads." 

The  White  Mountain  region  has  as  many  opportuni- 
ties for  rambling  as  it  has  mountains.  For  the  visitor 
who  enters  by  way  of  Lake  Winnepesaukee,  there  is  no 
better  route  into  the  heart  of  the  mysteries  than  from 
Melvin  Village  northeast  to  Chatham,  past  peaks  whose 
rugged  beauty  is  so  great  that  it  seems  a  wonder  they 
are  not  better  known,  along  the  shores  of  ponds  that 
might  as  well  be  called  lakes,  through  valleys  and  by 
winding  water  courses,  into  the  heart  of  the  White 
Mountain  National  Forest,  where  roads  and  trails  and 
camping  sites  are  provided  in  profusion,  as  marked 
plainly  on  the  map  of  the  forest,  which  should  be  the 
companion  of  every  visitor  to  the  region. 

Far  over  toward  the  twists  and  turns  in  the  Con- 
necticut River,  Mount  Starr  King  rises  above  the  head- 
waters of  Moose  River,  a  western  tributary  of  the 
Androscoggin,  while  to  the  south  of  the  stream  is  a 
group  of  a  dozen  peaks  that  dominate  half  a  dozen 
ridges,  separated  by  wild  ravines.  Some  of  these  moun- 
tains— Mount  Madison  and  Mount  Adams  among 
them — are  only  a  few  hundred  feet  behind  Mount 
Washington,  the  king  of  them  all. 

49 


LOST  RIVER,   ISSUING   FROM  UNDERGROUND   CAVERN,    WHITE   MOUNTAINS 


HAYING    SEASON   IN   THE    WHITE    MOUNTAINS 
View  from  Bethlehem,  New  Hampshire 


j 


VIEW  FROM  CARRIAGE  ROAD,  ACROSS  GREAT  GULF 
Mt.  Washington,  after  the  Great  Storm  of  September  30,  1915 


SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

To  the  southwest  of  Mount  Adams  is  the  Castel- 
lated Ridge,  famous  because  of  the  scene  of  wild  beauty 
glimpsed  from  its  various  vantage  points.  Far  below, 
in  the  Ravine  of  the  Castles,  Castle  Brook  descends 
madly  amid  the  rocks  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
seeking  Israel's  River,  on  the  way  to  the  Connecticut. 

Before  Mount  Washington  itself  is  approached,  it 
is  well  to  saunter  in  from  the  west,  beginning  per- 
haps at  Bethlehem,  where  the  vale  is  of  surpassing 
loveliness,  going  over  to  Franconia  and — where  the 
mountains  come  so  close  together — Franconia  Notch, 
with  its  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain  and  the  Flume,  where 
rocky  walls,  nine  hundred  feet  long  and  seventy  feet 
deep,  shut  out  the  sun  except  at  mid-day. 

To  the  east  of  Franconia  Notch  is  Bretton  Woods, 
the  name  of  which  is  a  reminder  of  old  England.  In 
1772  Governor  Wentworth  granted  the  land  in  this 
section  to  his  cousin,  whose  home  was  at  Bretton  Hill 
in  Yorkshire.  The  picturesque  name  might  have  been 
lost  forever,  for  in  1832  it  was  changed  to  Carrol.  But 
in  1902  some  wise  delver  in  historic  lore  discovered  the 
earlier  name  and  its  significance,  and  succeeded  in 
having  it  restored. 

Another  historic  name  is  that  given  to  Crawford 
Notch,  to  the  south  of  Bretton  Woods.  Ethan  Allan 
Crawford  was  not  only  the  proprietor  of  the  first  hotel 
in  this  region,  but  he  was  the  maker  of  the  first  foot- 
path to  Mount  Washington,  and  the  first  shelter  on 
the  summit  of  the  mountain. 

Crawford 's  Notch — one  of  the  outstanding  glories 
of  the  White  Mountains,  and  the  source  of  the  Saco 
River — was  discovered  by  Timothy  Nash,  pioneer,  who 
had  sought  the  wilderness  to  make  a  home  for  his  fam- 

41 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

ily.  One  day,  while  in  pursuit  of  a  moose,  he  found 
himself  in  the  dark  depths  of  the  Notch.  Later  he  told 
of  his  discovery  to  Governor  Wentworth,  who  promised 
him  a  grant  of  land  if  he  would  lead  a  horse  through 
the  Notch.  The  problem  was  to  get  a  horse  into  the 
pass ;  progress,  would  be  comparatively  easy  after  that 
had  been  done.  With  the  help  of  a  companion,  ingeni- 
ous as  himself,  he  hoisted  a  horse  by  ropes  over  the 
rocks  into  the  Notch.  And  he  had  his  reward,  for  here, 
in  1773,  the  governor  gave  184  acres  to  the  two  men. 
A  month  later  they  sold  the  ground  for  ninety  pounds, 
but  it  is  still  known  as  Nash  and  Sawyer's  Location, 
and  it  is  so  marked  in  the  map  of  the  New  Hampshire 
State  Forest  Reservation,  within  the  White  Mountain 
National  Forest,  which  includes  the  Notch. 

All  these  features  of  the  White  Mountain  region, 
wonderful  as  they  are,  are  but  preparatory  to  the 
greatest  feature  of  all,  Mount  Washington,  which, 
from  its  height  of  6,293  feet,  looks  royally  down  on  the 
twenty-three  peaks  whose  elevation  exceeds  four  thou- 
sand feet,  as  well  as  on  countless  ridges  and  mountains 
that  would,  in  many  other  locations  in  the  East,  be 
spoken  of  as  respectable  eminences. 

Mount  Washington  is  so  easy  of  access  that  appre- 
ciation of  its  wonders  need  not  be  reserved  for  the  few. 
For  those  who  like  a  real  scramble,  there  is  a  practicable 
route  up  Tuckerman  Ravine.  The  fact  that  this  re- 
quires a  climb  of  one  thousand  feet  up  a  wall  where 
the  grade  approaches  fifty  per  cent  and  that  provision 
must  be  made  for  cutting  steps  in  the  ice  and  for  rop- 
ing climbers  together,  adds  to  the  desirability  of  the 
trip.  There  are  also  reasonably  good  approaches  over 
the  northern  peak  of  the  Presidential  Range,  or 

42 


SAUNTERING  THROUGH  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 

from  the  direction  of  the  peaks  to  the  south,  while, 
for  those  who  seek  greater  ease,  there  are  the  carriage 
road  and  the  cog  railway. 

Visitors  to  the  mountain  have  learned  to  beware  of 
the  sudden  descent  of  autumn  storms,  which  usually 
focus  about  the  tiny  mountain  tarns  on  the  south  slope, 
known  as  the  Lakes  of  the  Clouds.  William  Francis 
Dawson,  one  of  the  most  venturesome  spirits  in  the 
Appalachian  Club,  encountered  one  of  these  storms  on 
September  24,  1915,  and  narrowly  escaped  to  tell  the 
tale.  His  start  was  made  from  Crawf  ords.  First  he 
went  through  the  forest  on  Mount  Clinton,  then 
proceeded  along  six  miles  of  the  heights  toward  the 
goal.  "That  sky  line  promenade,  with  nothing  to 
obstruct  the  view  but  Washington  itself,"  Mr.  Dawson 
afterward  wrote  to  the  author  of  this  volume,  "is  one 
of  the  finest  in  New  England,  and  that  day  there  was 
neither  cloud  nor  haze.  Mount  Pleasant  and  Mount 
Franklin  were  passed,  and  then  the  path  skirted  the 
precipitous  head  wall  of  Oakes  Gulf." 

Fortunately  the  climber  met  two  descending  tour- 
ists, who,  telling  him  he  would  find  no  food  at  the  Appa- 
lachian Mountain  Club  hut  at  the  Lakes  of  the  Clouds, 
and  that  the  Summit  House  had  just  closed  for  the  sea- 
son, gave  him  some  of  their  lunch. 

In  company  with  the  keeper  of  the  hut,  and  five 
others,  he  went  to  sleep  after  a  beautiful  sunset.  But 
the  weather  changed  during  the  night,  and  for  five  days 
the  little  company  was  stormbound.  Food  was  eaten 
sparingly,  for  there  was  little  beside  the  lunch  received 
from  the  descending  tourists.  The  wind  blew  with 
a  velocity  unknown  before  in  forty  years.  Thousands 

43 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  trees  were  blown  down  on  the  lower  slopes  of 
the  mountain. 

From  Saturday  until  Thursday  the  storm  continued. 
Then  the  sun  rose  clear  and  disclosed  what  Mr.  Dawson 
said  was  the  most  beautiful  sight  he  had  ever  seen. 
"The  upper  four  hundred  feet  of  Mount  Monroe  rose 
before  us,  all  white  with  frost,  save  where  the  sun 
touched  the  high  spots  with  rose.  The  storm  was  over, 
the  wind  had  gone  down,  and  not  a  cloud  remained 
above  us,  but  a  thousand  feet  below  was  an  ocean  of 
clouds,  and  here  and  there  the  higher  peaks  showed 
above  like  islands  in  the  ocean.  Everything  above 
4000  feet  was  white  with  frost.  On  the  hut  chimney 
was  a  distinct  feather's  plume,  two  feet  long.  As  we 
ascended  the  cone  to  the  summit  the  frost  formations 
kept  increasing  in  size  until,  at  the  very  top,  some  of 
them  were  fully  five  feet  in  length.  Every  stick  and 
stone  was  so  cold  during  the  storm  that  it  had  collected 
the  moisture  from  the  fog  in  the  form  of  beautiful 
frost  feathers." 

Mr.  Dawson  succeeded  in  taking  some  wonderful 
pictures  of  these  frost  formations.  They  are  his 
souvenirs  of  one  of  the  narrowest  escapes  climbers  on 
Mount  Washington  ever  had. 


CHAPTER  VI 
ON  "THE  LONG  TRAIL"  IN  VERMONT 

THOSE  who  become  enthusiastic  when  they  talk 
of  the  surpassing  scenery  of  Vermont  are  in 
good  company.  There  is  a  record  that  in  1790 
George  Washington,  just  after  entering  the  southwest 
corner  of  Vermont,  when  on  his  notable  horseback 
journey  which  had  for  its  object  the  discussion  of  the 
possibility  of  Vermont's  entrance  to  the  Federal  Union, 
stood  enraptured  when  on  the  road  to  Pownal  Center. 

That  journey  of  Washington  marked  the  end  of  a 
generation  of  disputes  between  New  Hampshire  and 
New  York  for  the  country  west  of  the  Connecticut. 
Governor  Banning  Wentworth  of  New  Hampshire 
created  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  "New  Hampshire 
Grants"  west  of  the  river,  in  spite  of  New  York's  claim 
to  jurisdiction.  The  rights  of  the  settlers  of  the  Grants 
were  defended  by  the  Green  Mountain  Boys,  of  whom 
Ethan  Allen  was  the  leader. 

The  first  of  the  Grants  was  Bennington,  the  city  on 
the  Walloomsac,  a  few  miles  north  of  the  Pownal 
Intervale  which  charmed  Washington  in  1790,  noted 
for  the  beauty  of  the  view  from  the  top  of  the  Battle 
Monument. 

The  hill  of  the  Bennington  Battle  Monument,  like  the 
mountains  that  surround  Bennington,  really  belongs  to 
the  Taconics,  though  all  are  popularly  thought  of  as 
a  part  of  the  Green  Mountain  chain  that  stretches  from 
the  Massachusetts  line,  where  this  is  crossed  by  the 

45 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Deerfield  River,  and  on  for  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight 
miles  to  the  Canadian  border. 

Determined  to  persuade  others  of  what  they  felt  to 
be  the  preeminence  of  the  Green  Mountains,  either  for 
a  summer's  sojourn  or  a  walking  or  motor  trip  of  a 
few  days  or  weeks,  the  members  of  the  Green  Mountain 
Club  in  1910  began  to  blaze  The  Long  Trail  along  the 
mountains  from  the  Massachusetts  line  to  the  Canadian 
border.  By  enlisting  the  aid  of  residents  near  the 
route  and  of  the  State  Forest  Service  they  have 
succeeded  in  providing  a  practicable  route  almost  all 
the  way,  and  the  few  gaps  will  be  filled  before  long. 
Side  trails  also  have  been  equipped,  so  that  access  is 
easy  to  the  crowning  glories  of  a  state  that  has  been 
called  by  many  travelers  the  most  beautiful  territory 
of  its  size  in  the  United  States. 

One  of  the  services  performed  by  the  Green  Moun- 
tain Club  is  the  preparation  of  leaflets  and  booklets 
describing  the  Long  Trail  in  whole  or  in  part,  and 
telling  of  trips  that  have  been  taken  over  its  rugged 
miles.  Of  particular  value  is  a  leaflet  outlining  a  ' '  Ten 
Days'  Tramp  on  the  Long  Trail,"  with  sensible  hints 
for  the  tramper.  Some  of  these  documents  may  be 
secured  from  the  Secretary  of  the  Club  at  Burlington. 
These  should  be  supplemented  by  the  Road  Map  of 
Vermont  and  companion  booklets  issued  by  the  Secre- 
tary of  State,  Publicity  Department,  Montpelier. 

Thus  provided,  the  traveler  is  ready  for  the  joy- 
giving,  mind-invigorating,  health-preserving,  soul-sat- 
isfying plunge  into  the  Green  Mountains  at  any  one 
of  a  score  of  points,  or  for  the  wondrous  pilgrimage 
through  "the  only  state  east  of  the  Rockies  traversed 
from  end  to  end  by  a  mountain  range." 

46 


IN  A  MARBLE  QUARRY.  RUTLAND.  VERMONT 


GATHERING  MAPLE  SAP  IN  VERMONT 


ON  "THE  LONG  TRAIL"  IN  VERMONT 

It  is  startling  to  learn  that  in  the  comparatively 
small  area  of  the  state  there  are  494  peaks  with  an 
elevation  of  2000  feet  or  higher,  while  89  are  3000  feet 
or  over,  and  four  are  4000  feet.  459  of  these  lofty 
peaks  are  in  the  southern  half  of  the  state. 

If  The  Long  Trail  is  approached  from  Bennington, 
the  climber  will  find  himself  at  once  among  a  bewilder- 
ing array  of  eminences  that  look  down  on  so  many 
towns  in  Vermont  and  Massachusetts  that  it  is  difficult 
to  keep  track  of  them;  it  is  said  that  fifty  towns  can 
be  counted  from  Newfane  Hill  in  Windham  county. 
From  Stratton  Mountain,  to  the  east  of  the  Trail, 
portions  of  four  states  may  be  seen. 

Green  Mountain  at  Manchester  is  like  a  vast  sea 
billow  reaching  gently  down  to  the  valley,  while  Mount 
Aeolus,  farther  north,  raises  its  tree-clad  slopes  high 
above  the  winding  brooks  that  pick  their  way  daintily 
through  the  meadows  at  its  base.  One  of  the  tempta- 
tions to  side  trips  will  come  when  the  Trail  leads  close 
to  the  headwaters  of  the  Ottagueechee  Eiver.  The 
stream  as  it  winds  amid  the  green  meadows  at  Sher- 
burne  with  graceful  ridges  rising  on  either  side  and 
the  shadow  of  clouds  and  trees  reflected  in  its  cool 
depths,  speaks  with  a  luring  voice1. 

Back  to  the  Trail,  and  up  to  Killington  Peak,  4241 
feet  high,  the  second  highest  peak  in  Vermont,  which 
lords  it  over  half  a  dozen  mountains,  each  more  than 
three  thousand  feet  high,  all  of  these  rising  from  the 
same  base  as  Killington.  Here  the  Trail  climber  feels 
himself  at  the  heart  of  Vermont's  wilderness.  The 
ascent  is  sometimes  difficult,  but  the  view  from  the 
summit  is  sublime.  The  eye  sweeps  from  Lake 

47 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Champlain  and  Lake  George,  with  the  Adirondacka 
beyond,  to  the  White  Mountains. 

Then  comes'  twin-peaked  Bread  Loaf  Mountain, 
with  its  outlook  that  takes  in  the  four  highest  peaks 
of  the  State,  and  tributary  glens  and  lakes.  The 
automobile  road  part-way  up  the  mountain  is  one  of 
the  finest  drives  in  the  State. 

By  this  time  the  follower  of  the  Trail  will  probably 
have  exhausted  his  adjectives  and  will  look  out  in 
silence  when  he  stands  on  the  summit  of  Lincoln,  4024 
feet  high,  over  the  forested  slopes  that  rise  and  fall 
to  south,  to  west,  to  north,  to  east,  and  when  he  comes 
to  Camel's  Hump  he  will  wonder  how  he  could  have 
thought  that  earlier  views  could  not  be  surpassed.  For 
he  will  find  that  other  mountains  have  withdrawn  to  a 
distance,  so  that,  as  he  stands  on  bare  rock,  above  the 
timber  line,  he  beholds  wide  stretches  of  lower  lands. 
Behind  him  on  one  side  there  is  a  precipice  four 
hundred  feet  higher  that  gives  a  taste  of  real  Rocky 
Mountain  scenery.  Away  to  the  south  reaches  the 
ridge  over  which  the  climber  has  come. 

Twenty  miles  to  the  north,  Mount  Mansfield  towers 
above  all  its  fellows,  to  a  height  of  4457  feet.  On  the 
eastern  side  of  this  mountain  are  the  Rock  of  Terror 
and  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  and  far  below  are  the  depths 
and  bordering  cliffs  of  Smuggler's  Notch. 

Between  Mount  Mansfield  and  the  Canadian  border 
there  are  many  outstanding  peaks,  but  the  greatest  of 
them  all  is  Jay  Peak,  from  whose  summit  the  tourist 
may,  when  weather  conditions  are  favorable,  descry 
thfe  Montreal  and  Ottawa  Valleys,  the  mountains  beyond 
the  St.  Lawrence,  the  mountains  and  the  headwaters  of 
the  Connecticut  River,  the  Chaudiere  and  Androscoggin 

48 


ON  "THE  LONG  TRAIL"  IN  VERMONT 

Valleys,  the  Presidential  Range  of  the  White  Moun- 
tains, the  northern  Green  Mountain  peaks,  nearly  the 
entire  length  of  Lake  Champlain,  with  the  Andirondacks 
beyond,  the  Eichelieu  River  from  the  point  where  it 
receives  the  waters  of  Lake  Champlain  until  it  empties 
into  the  St.  Lawrence,  as  well  as  Lake  Willoughby, 
with  its  guardians  Mount  Pisgah  and  Mount  Hor,  and 
that  other  lake  whose  name  speaks  so  enticingly  of 
the  Indians  who  delighted  to  paddle  on  its  glassy 
surface — Memphremagog. 

Lake  Memphremagog  is  the  capital  feature  of  the 
remarkable  lake  region  of  Northeastern  Vermont, 
where  there  are  nearly  two  hundred  lakes  and  ponds. 

Of  the  thirty-two  miles  of  Memphremagog  between 
Newport,  Vermont,  and  Magog,  Canada,  but  one-fifth 
is  in  Vermont.  This  international  lake  is  overlooked 
by  towering  summits  in  both  countries,  among  them 
OwPs  Head  and  Orford.  Orford  is  the  highest  peak 
in  eastern  Canada,  while  OwPs  Head  has  been  famous 
for  two  generations  as  the  annual  meeting  place  of  a 
lodge  of  Masons.  On  June  24  the  favored  members 
of  the  secret  order  seek  a  part  of  a  cleft  near  the 
summit — a  natural  lodge  room  of  adequate  size, 
bounded  by  rocky  walls  that  rise  precipitously  twenty 
feet  high.  Thus,  when  the  Masons  enter  their  hall  in 
the  mountain,  they  are  hidden  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock. 
And  when  the  session  is  adjourned,  they  mount  to  the 
summit  vantage  ground  where  they  can  look  away  one 
hundred  miles  to  Montreal,  the  city  by  the  St.  Lawrence. 


CHAPTER  VII 
BOSTON,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  DOME 

IT  is  recorded  that  before  Phillips  Brooks  would 
take  Dean  Stanley  on  a  tour  of  his  native  Boston, 
he  first  led  him  to  the  cupola  above  the  dome  of  the 
State  House  that  he  might  revel  in  the  panorama  of 
Boston  old  and  new  laid  out  at  his  feet.  It  is  still 
better  to  supplement  such  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
State  House  by  a  trip  to  the  roof  of  one  of  the  business 
buildings  looking  down  on  the  Common.  The  only 
disadvantage  in  looking  out  on  the  city  from  such  a 
point  of  vantage  is  that  the  dome  of  the  House  of 
the  Sacred  Codfish  hides  certain  landmarks  toward 
Charlestown.  But  this  deprivation  is  atoned  for  by 
having  as  a  part  of  the  picture  the  State  House  itself. 

Even  more  important  than  the  State  House  as  a 
central  feature  of  old  Boston  is  the  Common — resort 
of  the  populace  from  the  days  of  the  Puritans,  play- 
ground of  boys  and  girls  of  nearly  three  centuries, 
favorite  pasture  of  the  gentle  Boston  cow  for  more 
than  half  that  time.  The  fifty  acres  that  slope  gently 
down  Beacon  Hill  from  the  State  House  to  Boylston 
and  Tremont  Streets  have  been  jealously  guarded 
from  all  intrusion. 

The  northern  boundary  of  Boston  Common  is  Bea- 
con Street,  for  many  years  bordered  by  the  homes  of 
notables,  chief  of  these  being  John  Hancock.  Over  the 
hill  is  the  beautiful  Charles  Eiver. 

Today  the  broad  estuary  of  the  Charles,  to  the 

50 


FANEUIL    HALL,    BOSTON 
Erected  1742 


KING  S   CHAPEL,    BOSTON 
Erected  1753 


ELMWOOD,"  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL'S  HOUSE,  CAMBRIDGE,   MASSACHUSETTS 


BOSTON,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  DOME 

northwest  of  the  observer  on  the  roof  of  the  building 
by  the  Common,  is  more  attractive  than  it  was  in  the 
days  of  the  author  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
At  a  distance  is  the  Harvard  Bridge.  Beyond  it,  in 
Cambridge,  are  the  white  walls  of  the  famous 
Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology.  Still  farther 
away,  but  out  of  sight,  are  the  buildings  of  Harvard 
University,  whose  students  show  their  good  taste  by 
rowing  on  the  inimitable  Charles,  or  by  looking  at  the 
twinkling  lights  that  reach  up  the  hill  toward  the  State 
House  across  a  region  that  once  was  a  favorite  dwelling 
place  of  the  great,  though  now  it  is  largely  given  over 
to  the  dwellers  from  foreign  lands  who,  if  they  look  to 
the  north,  can  see  Old  North  Church,  from  whose  steeple 
the  signal  lanterns  were  hung  for  Paul  Revere.  Over  the 
Charles  in  Charlestown  rises  Bunker  Hill  Monument, 
the  shaft  that  has  been  an  inspiration  to  millions  of 
liberty-loving  men  and  women. 

Within  a  few  squares  on  the  east  and  northeast  are 
easily  discerned  the  Old  South  Church,  the  old  State 
House  from  whose  balcony  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence was  proclaimed,  King's  Chapel,  the  worshiping 
place  of  loyalists  during  the  Revolution,  and  Faneuil 
Hall,  "the  Cradle  of  American  Liberty."  Beyond 
these  is  the  great  Custom  House  tower,  the  most 
conspicuous  landmark  in  the  city,  rising  high  above 
a  Greek  columned  structure  that  would  be  memorable 
even  without  the  tower. 

Almost  at  the  base  of  the  building  that  affords  the 
bird's-eye  view  of  Boston  is  "Brimstone  Corner," 
where  stands  Park  Street  Congregational  Church,  with 
its  wonderfully  graceful  steeple  that  speaks  of  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  and,  under  its  shadow,  the  Granary 

51 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Burying  Ground,  in  which  famous  men  of  Revolutionary 
days  lie  serenely  within  a  stone's  throw  of  that  other 
graveyard  about  King's  Chapel  where  are  buried  some 
of  those  with  whom,  when  living,  they  were  not  always 
on  speaking  terms. 

Without  a  guide  it  is  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  pass 
quickly  among  the  relics  of  the  Revolution  that  cluster 
so  thickly  to  the  east  of  the  Common.  A  Bostonian, 
if  he  is  thoroughly  honest,  would  probably  be  willing 
to  say  that  it  is  not  always  easy  for  him  to  give  another 
directions  for  finding  his  way,  or  even  to  find  his  own 
way,  through  the  maze  of  streets  that  have  been  said 
to  follow  the  windings  of  old  cow  paths. 

The  distant  view  of  the  water  front  whets  the 
appetite  for  a  stroll  along  the  wharves  and  among  the 
shipping.  The  famous  T  Wharf,  close  to  the  Custom 
House,  is  a  good  starting  point.  After  the  tour  is 
completed  is  a  good  time  to  take  a  boat  and  cruise 
among  the  numerous  islands  of  the  strangely  pictur- 
esque harbor. 

An  excursion  that  should  be  taken  by  all  means  is 
to  Revere  Beach.  There  is  afforded  a  typical  study 
of  what  the  city  is  doing  to  give  relaxation  to  its 
residents.  Since  1892  the  municipality  has  built  up  a 
series  of  parks  extraordinary.  These  range  in  size 
from  the  Charlesbank  Playground  of  ten  acres  to 
reservations  like  that  of  the  Blue  Hills  south  of  town. 
Today  the  Metropolitan  Park  District  controls  nearly 
ten  thousand  acres  of  playground  in  the  hills,  in  the 
valleys  and  along  the  rivers  for  twenty  miles  around. 

The  fathers  who  laid  out  Tremont  Street  would 
surely  have  been  surprised  if  they  could  have  known 
that  some  day  this  street  would  point  toward  one  of 

52 


BOSTON,  THE  CITY  OF  THE  GOLDEN  DOME 

these  pleasure  grounds.  At  first  the  streets  was  named 
Trimount  because  it  looked  toward  three  peaks  of  the 
Blue  Hills.  From  Trimount  the  ascent — or  was  it  a 
descent? — to  Tremont  was  easy. 

These  Blue  Hills  may  be  seen  from  the  chosen  eyrie 
of  the  sightseer,  at  the  edge  of  the  Common.  And  from 
them  the  eye  may  sweep  to  the  southwest,  over  toward 
Eoxbury,  the  town  of  early  days  which  was  "well 
watered  with  cool  and  pleasant  springs  issuing  forth 
from  the  rocky  hills,  and  with  small  freshets  watering 
the  valley  of  the  fertile  town." 

To  the  north  of  the  old  region  of  springs,  but  to 
the  west  of  the  Common  are  some  of  the  modern  city's 
most  famous  buildings.  Here  is  the  Back  Bay  terri- 
tory, whose  towers  and  spires  rise  in  pleasing  profusion 
and  variety.  The  New  Old  South  Church  is  there,  with 
colonial  tombstones  set  in  its  walls.  Trinity  Church 
also  is  there,  and  by  its  side  is  the  St.  Gaudens  statue 
of  Phillips  Brooks,  its  most  famous  rector.  The  Boston 
Public  Library  is  a  near  neighbor,  with  its  St.  Gaudens 
lions,  the  Abbey  pictures  of  the  Holy  Grail,  the  Sargent 
decorations,  and  the  section  of  the  prisoners'  dock 
where,  in  Boston,  England,  in  1607,  the  Pilgrims 
Bradford  and  Brews ter  were  tried. 

And  when,  at  length,  all  the  landmarks,  seen  first 
from  the  height,  have  been  examined  in  detail  on  the 
ground,  it  is  wise  to  climb  once  more  to  the  State  House 
Cupola — or,  better  still,  to  a  building  from  which  the 
State  House  can  be  seen — for  the  last  lingering  glimpses 
of  the  City  of  the  Golden  Dome. 


CHAPTER  YIII 
ON  THE  EOAD  OUT  OF  BOSTON 

BOSTON'S  Metropolitan  Park  System  reaches 
out  to  the  north  so  as  to  include  a  portion  of 
the  Middlesex  Fells,  the  famous  tract  of  wood- 
land in  a  region  of  low  hills.  The  Medford  and 
Andover  turnpike  skirts  the  Fells  which  are  bounded 
roughly  by  Stonehain,  Woburn,  Winchester,  Medford, 
Maiden,  and  Melrose. 

Beyond  Andover  the  road  approaches  the  Merrimac 
Eiver  opposite  Haverhill,  whose  citizens  rejoice  in  the 
possession  of  Fernside  Farm,  the  birthplace  of  John 
G.  Whittier.  When  he  was  born  in  1807  the  house 
was  one  hundred  and  fifteen  years  old,  and  it  looks 
as  if  it  were  still  good  for  a  few  hundred  years. 

From  Haverhill  the  turnpike  follows  the  Merrimac 
down  to  the  sea  at  Newburyport,  the  old  seaside  town 
so  full  of  reminders  of  a  sturdy  past,  prominent 
among  them  being  the  Old  South  Church.  This  was 
built  in  1750,  but  it  stands  almost  exactly  as  it  was  in 
the  beginning.  From  its  pulpit  George  Whitefield 
thundered  fiery  invectives  and  made  stirring  appeals, 
and  in  the  crypt  he  was  buried. 

From  Newburyport  the  road  turns  back  toward 
Boston,  passing  through  the  country  of  the  Plum 
Island  Marshes,  part  of  the  salt  meadows  which  stretch 
from  Cape  Ann  to  Eye,  New  Hampshire.  These  curious 
lands — of  which  there  are  about  one  hundred  and  sixty 
square  miles  in  all — have  been  formed  by  the  gathering 

64 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE'S  "  WAYSIDE,  "  CONCORD,  MASSACHUSETTS 


THE    HOUSE    OF    SEVEN    GABLES,    SALEM,    MASSACHUSETTS 


ON  THE  ROAD  OUT  OF  BOSTON 

of  sediment  from  the  river  in  basins  bounded  by  the 
mainland  and  the  heaped-up  sand  beaches.  Gradually 
the  land  has  been  built  up  until  it  is  comparatively  dry 
except  at  high  tide.  Portions  of  these  marshes  have 
been  drained  by  means  of  dikes  and  have  been  found 
very  fertile. 

Down  where  its  marshes  reach  to  the  sea,  Gloucester 
Harbor  marks  the  extreme  northern  end  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay.  Within  this  harbor  the  Puritans  first  found 
shelter  and  made  the  land  when  they  came  to  the  New 
England  coast.  The  old  town  abounds  in  picturesque 
nooks  and  corners. 

Near  neighbor  to  Gloucester  is  Salem,  once  a  port 
of  world- wide  fame.  For  more  than  one  hundred  years 
ships  carried  its  name  to  the  seven  seas.  It  is  recorded 
that  in  1807  one  hundred  and  fifty-five  deep  commerce 
carriers  were  owned  there,  and  that  the  first  merchant 
vessel  to  sail  around  the  world  was  the  Minerva, 
commanded  by  a  Salem  man  for  a  Salem  owner. 

In  the  Peabody  Museum  are  treasured  many  things 
that  speak  of  those  heroic  days — as  well  as  of  days 
less  heroic  when  the  witch  delusion  was  still  in  the  land. 
Yet  most  people  prefer  to  spend  their  time  in  the  open, 
going  to  Gallows  Hill,  where  nineteen  people  were 
executed  for  witchcraft  in  1692,  to  the  House  of  Seven 
Gables,  where  Hawthorne  wrote  The  Scarlet  Letter, 
to  the  Endicott  Pear  Tree  at  Danversport,  planted 
by  John  Endicott  in  1632,  or  to  the  Needham  Homestead 
in  West  Peabody,  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  old 
and  occupied  by  the  tenth  generation  in  descent  from 
the  builder. 

Almost  at  every  turn  in  the  Massachusetts  Bay 
country  are  houses  that  were  built  in  the  days  of 

55 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Anthony  Needham,  of  Youlgrave,  England,  the  first 
owner  of  the  Needham  house.  Over  at  Saugus  Broad- 
hearth  is  more  than  twenty  years  older.  It  was  built 
the  year  after  the  opening  of  "ye  Iron  Works  "opposite, 
the  first  iron  foundry  in  America. 

Broadhearth,  which  is  now  in  the  possession  of  the 
Wallace  Nutting  Corporation,  has  a  picturesque  over- 
hang, as  has  also  the  neighboring  Bennet-Boardman 
house,  where  the  Society  for  the  Preservation  of  New 
England  Antiquities  has  done  effective  work  in  making 
the  property  available  for  those  who  wish  to  inspect  it. 

Saugus  is  on  the  crooked  Saugus  River,  another 
of  the  short  but  beautiful  streams,  of  northeastern 
Massachusetts,  with  Lynn  at  the  mouth,  named  in  honor 
of  Eev.  Samuel  Whiting  of  King's  Lin,  England,  his 
former  home. 

The  distance  required  for  the  circular  tour  that 
ends  soon  after  Lynn  is  left  behind  is  not  great,  but 
the  interest  of  the  country  and  the  towns  passed  through 
is  so  great  that  it  is  difficult  to  complete  it  in  a  single 
day.  But  a  trip  that  may  well  be  made  in  a  day  is  out 
to  Lexington  and  Concord  and  up  the  Concord  Eiver 
to  Lowell  on  the  Merrimac. 

The  pilgrim  to  Lexington  should  pause  at  the 
Common,  study  the  battleground  where  the  patriots 
resisted  aggression  on  that  April  day  in  1775,  and  look 
in  at  the  Clarke  House,  in  which  John  Hancock  and 
Samuel  Adams  were  resting  when  Paul  Revere  warned 
them  of  danger. 

Over  at  Concord  he  would  of  course  see,  in  addition 
to  the  battlefield  and  the  monument  of  the  Minute  Men, 
Hawthorne's  Old  Manse,  as  well  as  the  Emerson  and 
Alcott  houses.  Those  who  gave  the  town  its  name 

56 


ON  THE  ROAD  OUT  OF  BOSTON 

might  have  chosen  differently  if  they  could  have  read 
the  future.  But  they  were  merely  reading  the  past. 
When  they  bought  the  land,  Musketaquid,  from  the 
Indians  they  thought  Concord  was  the  only  possible 
name,  because  everything  was  so  harmonious. 

The  Concord  enters  the  Merrimac  where  Lowell 
takes  power  from  the  latter  stream,  which  has  been 
called  the  most  useful  river  of  its  size  in  America, 
because  of  the  water  power  developments  at  Lowell,  as 
well  as  f  artlier  up  and  down  the  river. 

There  is  a  river  nearer  Boston  that  is  famous  not 
for  water  power,  but  for  beauty.  From  the  broad 
stretch  close  to  the  State  House  to  its  source  thirty 
miles  away  the  Charles  winds  amid  surroundings  of  ut- 
most charm.  That  is,  the  direct  distance  from  source  to 
mouth  is  only  thirty  miles,  but  those  who  follow  the 
windings  of  the  river  will  have  to  travel  sixty-seven 
miles.  They  will  see  the  section  on  which  Longfellow 
delighted  to  look  from  his  window  and  the  Hemlock 
Gorge  that  has  been  made  a  part  of  the  Metropolitan 
Park  System.  They  will  go  to  Watertown,  where,  on 
the  river  bank,  is  the  home  of  the  Perkins  Institution 
for  the  Blind,  whose  English  Gothic  buildings  cluster 
about  a  central  tower  that  has  been  called  a  poem  in 
stone — even  if  it  is  made  of  cement ! 

Up  stream  from  Watertown  Waltham  looks  out  on 
Prospect  Hill,  four  hundred  and  sixty  feet  above  the 
village,  which,  from  its  summit,  offers  a  view  of  the 
windings  of  the  river  that  should  be  complemented  by 
the  view  from  Doublet  Hill,  three  miles  farther  south. 

Within  reach  of  the  Charles  are  the  buildings  of 
Wellesley  College,  on  a  campus  as  attractive  as  the 
character  of  Miss  Freeman,  long  president  of  the 

57 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

institution,  whose  life-ideals  were  expressed  to  one 
who  urged  her  to  write  books  instead  of  using  all  her 
strength  in  interviews  with  her  girls.  She  replied : 

*  'I  am  trying  to  make  girls  happier  and  wiser.  Books 
don't  help  much  toward  that.  They  are  entertaining 
enough,  but  really  dead  things.  Why  should  I  make 
more  of  them?  It  is  people  that  count.  You  want  to 
put  yourself  into  people ;  they  touch  other  people ;  these, 
others  still,  and  so  you  go  on  working  forever. ' ' 

Another  as  earnest  as  the  teacher  whom  Wellesley 
delights  to  honor  went  more  than  two  hundred  years 
earlier  to  Natick.  His  name  was  John  Eliot.  On  the 
banks  of  the  Charles  he  gathered  his  Indian  friends 
about  him  after  his  settlement  there  in  1650,  persever- 
ing in  his  efforts  on  their  behalf  until  many  of  them 
were  splendid  specimens  of  Christian  manhood.  The 
town  was  incorporated  in  1679,  and  for  seven  years  all 
the  officers  were  Indians, 

The  people  of  Natick,  in  common  with  the  students 
from  Wellesley,  frequently  resort  to  the  top  of  Pegan 
Hill,  several  miles  away,  for  a  restful  view  of  the 
windings  of  the  Charles.  On  a  cloudy  day  they  can 
see  also  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, they  prefer  to  walk  north  to  Lake  Cochituate, 
where  seekers  after  quiet  beauty  have  learned  that  it 
is  worth  while  to  go  at  all  seasons. 

The  lake  reaches  north  almost  to  South  Sudbury, 
on  the  road  to  Worcester,  the  location  of  Longfellow's 
Wayside  Inn,  where  both  Washington  and  Lafayette 
were  guests.  When  they  were  in  the  village  they  must 
have  admired  the  two  old  oaks  before  the  Wayside  Inn 
whose  branches  shade  a  stretch  of  ground  two  hundred 
feet  long, 

68 


ON  THE  ROAD  OUT  OP  BOSTON 

There  are  twenty  miles  more  of  rural  beauty  on  the 
road  from  the  Sudbury  River  to  Worcester,  the  city 
which  boasts  of  being  "the  first  town  in  the  United 
States  to  buy  lands  with  public  funds  for  park  pur- 
poses." Elm  Park  includes  the  historic  purchase, 
which  was  the  nucleus  of  the  1065  acres  now  open  to 
the  public.  The  Old  Common  also  belongs  to  the  park 
system.  Here  was  the  training  ground  of  the  Minute 
Men  before  and  during  the  Revolution.  Quinsigamond 
Pond,  one  of  the  largest  bodies  of  water  in  the  State, 
is  the  gem  of  the  city's  pleasure  grounds  with  its  miles 
of  drives  along  the  wooded,  indented  shore. 

At  Westboro,  twelve  miles  southeast,  Eli  Whitney 
was  born,  while  Elias  Howe  was  born  at  Spencer,  a 
few  miles  west.  Clara  Barton,  founder  of  the  Red 
Cross,  first  saw  the  light  at  Bartlett's  Upper  Mill, 
almost  directly  south.  Later  she  lived  on  a  farm 
on  the  banks  of  French  River,  taught  school  for  sixteen 
years  at  North  Oxford  and  elsewhere  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Then,  after  half  a  century  of  Red  Cross  service, 
she  was  buried  at  North  Oxford,  where  the  road  from 
Winchester  touches  French  River. 

Let  those  who  stand  on  the  hallowed  spot  recall  the 
fact  that,  two  nights  before  her  death,  she  roused  from 
sleep  and  whispered : 

"I  dreamed  I  was  back  in  battle Once  again  I 

stood  by  the  soldiers I  crept  around  once  more, 

trying  to  give  them  at  least  a  drink  of  water  to  cool 

their  parched  lips Then  I  woke  to  hear  myself 

groan. . .  .1  am  ashamed  that  I  murmur." 


CHAPTER  IX 
FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

A  I  the  crow  flies  the  distance  from  Boston  to 
Cape  Cod  is  only  about  fifty  miles.  In  an 
airship  the  trip  could  be  made  in  little  more 
than  half  an  hour.  But  it  is  far  better  to  take  the  ram- 
bling route  along  the  shores  of  Massachusetts  Bay  and 
Cape  Cod  Bay.  Between  Plymouth  and  the  Cape  Cod 
Canal  there  is  an  eighteen-mile  gap  in  the  railroad,  and 
it  becomes  necessary  for  the  traveler  to  choose  a  round- 
about inland  route — that  is,  unless  he  is  following  the 
coast  by  automobile,  or  is  ready  to  cover  the  gap  on 
foot.  With  a  congenial  companion  a  delightful  week 
might  be  spent  in  a  walking  trip  between  Boston  and 
the  sandy  point  where  the  Pilgrims  landed.  What 
could  be  better  than  to  follow  from  one  end  to  the  other 
the  Old  Coast  Road  of  the  Pilgrims,  the  oldest  main 
road  in  New  England,  going  thus  in  the  steps  of  Myles 
Standish  who  traveled  many  times  between  Plymouth 
and  Boston  on  errands  for  the  little  colony  on  Cape 
Cod  Bay? 

Go  along  the  highway,  turning  aside  into  by-paths 
whenever  the  mood  takes  you.  Then  pass  on  to  the 
road  through  crooked  and  ever-narrowing  Barnstable, 
even  to  Cape  Cod  and  Race  Point.  See  if  you  are  not 
inspired  by  surroundings  that  whisper  of  the  centuries, 
that  tell  of  faithful  Massasoit,  burly  Myles  Standish, 
gentle  John  Alden,  and  determined  Governor  Carver, 
as  well  as  of  the  dainty  Priscilla  and  a  score  more  of 

60 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

brave  women  who  survived  the  first  deadly  winter  in 
the  new  land. 

But  if  the  railroad  must  be  chosen,  note  should  be 
taken  of  the  fact  that  there  are  two  routes  to  Plymouth. 
It  is  better  to  take  the  longer  of  the  two,  for  this 
follows  the  coast.  Yet  if  it  is  difficult  to  decide  between 
them,  why  not  take  them  both?  A  down  trip  to 
Plymouth  by  the  inland  route,  and  a  return  trip  along 
the  coast  is  a  satisfactory  arrangement.  Only  a  few 
miles  separate  the  roads,  but  there  is  a  great  contrast 
between  them.  The  shorter  road  is,  much  of  it,  through 
a  country  flat  and  uninteresting  in  itself,  where  there 
is  much  scrub  growth  along  the  way.  But  the  shore 
line  offers  views  of  the  bay,  and  rolling  land,  and  old 
houses.  So  what  if  the  trains  are  slow?  Eemember 
that  twenty  miles  an  hour  would  have  seemed  to  the 
Pilgrims  like  witchcraft. 

The  first  ten  miles  of  both  routes  are  the  same. 
Naturally  the  eye  turns  back  across  the  harbor  to  South 
Boston,  where,  on  Dorchester  Heights,  stands  the 
marble  monument  that  tells  of  a  heroic  deed  performed 
when  Plymouth  was  old,  yet  so  long  ago  that  it  seems 
like  a  legend.  Boston  was  sulking  in  the  hands  of 
the  British  invaders.  Most  people  thought  it  was 
impossible  to  dislodge  them,  but  the  resourceful  Wash- 
ington noted  a  commanding  height  that  the  enemy  with 
all  their  craft  had  left  unguarded.  What  could  he  not 
do  from  this,  if  only  he  had  artillery!  A  weakling 
would  have  balked  at  that '  '  if  only. ' '  But  Washington 
was  no  weakling.  By  incredible  perseverence  in  the 
face  of  obstacles  the  necessary  armament  was  brought 
all  the  way  from  Ticonderoga,  and  the  first  Lord  Howe 

61 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

knew  of  the  adventure  that  meant  doom  for  him  was 
when  all  was  ready  for  a  galling  fire  that  would  make 
his  situation  untenable.  Wisely  he  did  not  wait  for 
the  event,  but  decided  that  discretion  was  the  better 
part  of  valor,  and  withdrew. 

The  best  view  of  Dorchester  Heights  is  from  the 
Great  Blue  Hill,  back  of  Milton,  the  highest  point  of 
the  range  that  rears  aloft  so  unexpectedly,  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  bay,  and  so  close  to  Boston  that- 
it  is  included  in  the  Metropolitan  Park  System. 

The  Great  Blue  Hill,  rising  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  feet  above  the  tide,  is  the  highest  spot  on  the  entire 
North  Atlantic  Coast  south  of  Mount  Desert  There 
Harvard  has  its  Meteorological  Observatory.  And 
what  a  chance  there  is  for  observations !  Forty  miles 
to  the  north  is  revealed  Cape  Ann,  the  extreme  point 
of  Massachusetts  Bay.  It  is  sixty  miles  to  Mount 
Monadnock,  but  this  height  may  be  seen  in  favorable 
weather,  as  well  as  some  of  the  peaks  across  the  line 
in  New  Hampshire.  To  the  south  appears  Plymouth, 
nearly  forty  miles  away.  It  is  a  prospect  that  should 
be  seen;  it  will  add  to  the  joy  of  life. 

In  1894  Massachusetts  set  apart  the  Blue  Hill 
Reservation  of  more  than  four  thousand  acres,  that 
there  might  no  longer  be  danger  of  the  destruction  of 
the  crowding  trees  on  the  slopes  and  that  the  people 
might  have  freedom  to  climb  above  the  mists  and  the 
dust  of  the  lowlands  and  breathe  the  purer  air  and 
so  gain  courage  for  renewing  the  contest  with  the 
world  down  among  men. 

Milton  itself  is  a  good  foil  to  the  Reservation,  with 
its  old  houses  and  streets  where  the  trees,  set  at  a 
dignified  distance  apart  by  the  hands  of  the  men  of 


THE    ADAMS    HOUSES,    QUINCY,    MASSACHUSETTS 


THE    QUINCY    HOUSE,    QUINCY, 
Erected  1706 


MASSACHUSETTS 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

long  ago,  seem  determined  to  approach  one  another 
aloft  in  most  lover-like  fashion. 

Quincy,  just  beyond  Milton,  at  the  eastern  edge  of 
the  seven-mile  stretch  of  the  Blue  Hills,  was  one  of  the 
landing-places  of  Captain  John  Smith  in  1614.  On  his 
map  he  called  the  place  London,  for,  though  there  was 
no  town  there,  he  felt  sure  it  would  one  day  be  the 
scene  of  a  great  settlement.  His  map  was,  in  a  sense, 
prophetic,  for,  while  a  metropolis  did  not  spring  up 
there,  great  men  throve  in  the  locality.  John  Hancock 
was  born  in  the  neighborhood,  and  so  were  two 
presidents  of  the  United  States,  John  Adams  and  John 
Quincy  Adams. 

The  houses  in  which  the  two  presidents  lived  are 
still  standing,  close  together,  and  at  an  angle  that  will 
not  be  forgotten  by  those  who  have  seen  them.  One 
seems  a  very  ordinary  affair;  the  other  has  a  roof 
sloping  abruptly  from  the  peak  to  the  rear.  The  house 
is  two  stories  and  a  half  high  at  the  summit,  but  the 
roof  drops  so  that  from  the  eaves  a  man  could  almost 
reach  the  ground  by  hanging  at  arm's  length. 

The  staid  history  of  communities  along  this  stretch 
of  New  England  coast  is  varied  by  Weymouth,  the 
township  with  its  many  villages  where  Thomas  Weston 
first  settled  in  1622.  His  followers  were  such  roystering, 
irreligious  troublemakers  that  their  more  serious 
neighbors  to  th#  south  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when 
they  proposed  to  seek  again  the  darker  haunts  of 
London  from  which  they  had  come.  The  Pilgrims  were 
so  eager  for  this  ebb  in  the  immigration  movement  that 
they  found  means  to  assist  it,  though  their  own  pockets 
were  all  but  empty. 

Their  joy  over  the  departure  of  the  trouble-makers 

63 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

with  the  Indians  of  Wessagusset  did  not  last  long;  the 
coming  of  later  colonists  showed  them  that  they  had 
made  progress  from  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire. 
Captain  Wollaston,  who,  in  1625,  brought  a  company 
of  irresponsible  traders  to  Wollaston  Hill,  was  bad 
enough.  Fortunately  these  soon  sought  the  more 
genial  climate  of  the  south.  After  them  there  descended 
upon  the  unsuspecting  shore  of  Massachusetts  Bay 
Thomas  Morton  and  his  satellites,  who  grievously 
offended  the  serious-minded  Pilgrims  by  their  wordly 
conduct  on  the  height,  whose  name  they  changed  from 
Wollaston  to  Merry  Mount.  Bradford  charged  them 
with  conducting  "a  schoole  of  atheism."  He  added: 
"His  men  did  quaff  strong  waters  and  comfort  them- 
selves as  if  they  had  anew  revived  and  celebrated  the 
feasts  of  ye  Roman  Goddess  Flora,  or  the  beastly 
practices  of  ye  mad  Bacchanaliaus. ' '  To  crown  their 
infamy,  they  set  up  a  maypole,  to  celebrate  the  May 
Day  of  1627,  and  invited  the  Indians  to  join  them  in 
carousing  and  dancing  about  the  lofty  pine  stem,  decked 
in  fantastic  fashion  that  appealed  to  the  savages. 

The  maypole  and  even  the  drinking  were  of  minor 
importance  in  comparison  with  the  fact  that  friendship 
with  the  Indians  was  cultivated  by  improper  means. 
Not  only  did  the  leader  at  Merry  Mount  give  them  drink, 
but  he  supplied  them  with  arms  and  ammunition.  The 
Pilgrim  band  remonstrated  with  Morton,  reminding 
him  that  the  proclamation  of  the  king  made  in  1622 
forbade  such  practices. 

Finally  the  patience  of  those  who  saw  their  safety 
endangered  was  exhausted.  In  1628  Myles  Standish 
was  sent  to  Merry  Mount  to  arrest  the  trouble-maker. 
The  doughty  captain  was  not  dismayed  when  Morton 

64 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

offered  to  shoot  him,  but  *  '  stept  to  him,  and  put  up  his 
peece,  and  took  him." 

Then  followed  the  first  forcible  deportation  from 
New  England.  Morton  was  taken  on  board  the  ship 
Whale,  which  he  later  described  as  '  '  a  pitiful,  weather- 
beaten  craft, ' '  adding  that  in  it  he  was  '  *  in  more  danger 
than  Jonah  in  the  whales  belly. ' '  But  he  survived  the 
voyage  and  did  his  best  to  make  trouble  in  England  for 
those  responsible  for  his  deportation. 

This  ended  a  series  of  conflicts  with  Indians  and 
white  men  at  Weymouth  that  began  in  April,  1623,  when 
Standish  took  with  him  four  men  to  consult  in  a  small 
room  with  as  many  Indians.  The  Indians  were 
treacherous,  and  the  white  men  killed  them  all.  Thus 
they  inspired  with  a  brief  respect  the  followers  of  the 
dead  men  who  had  made  a  conspiracy  against  the 
whites.  The  incident  is  noteworthy,  not  only  because 
of  the  temporary  suppression  of  the  Indians,  but 
because  of  the  unconscious  humor  of  Pastor  Robinson 
of  Plymouth,  who  thought  that  it  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  kill  two  of  the  four  Indians. 

On  the  road  to  Weymouth  Standish  sometimes 
paused  at  Hingham,  one  of  the  oldest  settlements  in 
Plymouth  Colony,  where  today  the  drives  are  memor- 
able because  of  a  wealth  of  shade  and  many  old  houses. 
But  the  central  feature  of  the  community  is  the  Old 
Ship  Church,  not  far  from  the  railroad  station.  The 
organization  dates  from  1635,  and  the  present  building 
was  raised  on  three  July  days  in  1681.  Numerous 
attempts  have  been  made  to  change  the  old  structure, 
whose  quaintly  pitched  roof  is  responsible  for  its 
name,  but  always  the  decision  has  been  reached  to 
retain  the  old  distinctive  lines. 

5  65 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Not  so  far  from  the  historic  Hingham  rises  Captain 's 
Hill  in  Duxbury  where,  in  1631,  Captain  Myles  Standish 
settled  on  the  one-hundred-and-fifty-acre  farm  where 
he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days,  except  when  he  was 
called  away  by  the  needs  of  the  colonists.  They  had 
learned  to  depend  on  him  during  the  sorrows  of  the 
first  winter,  when  he  was  one  of  the  seven  men  who 
cared  for  the  sick  and  dying  and  helped  to  guard  the 
little  company  at  Plymouth.  When  he  went  to  Duxbury 
the  women  breathed  more  freely  because  he  promised 
to  respond  to  any  call  for  aid. 

John  Alden  lived  close  by  with  the  Priscilla  whom 
he  courted  in  vain  for  his  friend.  Husband  and  wife 
are  buried  near  the  scenes  they  loved.  The  grave  of 
Standish  is  marked  by  a  stone  parapet  on  which  four 
guns  are  mounted.  Eising  high  above  Captain's  Hill 
is  the  granite  monument,  surmounted  by  a  twelve-foot 
bronze  statue  of  Standish  in  full  uniform.  The  cor- 
ner-stone was  laid  in  1872.  It  rises  one  hundred  and 
ten  feet  above  the  two-hundred-foot  hill,  and  so  is 
the  most  prominent  landmark  in  all  the  historic 
neighborhood.  Within  easy  reach  of  the  monument 
is  the  house  built  by  Standish 's  son  in  1666,  ten  years 
after  the  captain's  death. 

From  the  top  of  the  monument  there  is  a  breath- 
taking view.  Eighteen  miles  away,  across  the  bay,  is 
the  tip  of  Cape  Cod.  To  the  right  lies  Plymouth,  with 
its  green  hills,  on  one  of  which  stands  the  Pilgrim 
Monument,  the  largest  granite  monument  in  the  world, 
crowned  by  the  representation  of  Faith,  thirty-six  feet 
high,  above  four  seated  figures  that  represent  Morality, 
Education,  Law  and  Freedom — the  principles  upon 
which  the  Pilgrims  founded  the  commonwealth.  Near 

66 


THE    ALDEN    HOUSE,    DUXBURY,    MASSACHUSETTS 


THE  STANDISH  HOUSE,  DUXBURY,  MASSACHUSETTS 
Erected  1666 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

the  foot  of  the  hill,  in  Kingston,  is  the  house  built  by 
members  of  the  Bradford  family  in  1675.  Across  the 
nearest  reach  of  water  is  the  long  spit  of  Duxbury 
Beach,  with  Saquish  Head  at  the  point  and  the  twin 
lighthouses  of  the  Gurnet  just  beyond. 

From  Duxbury  a  bridge  spans  the  marshes  to  the 
strange  projecting  beach  which  encloses  Clark's  Island 
between  itself  and  the  mainland.  The  trip  to  the  island 
should  be  made,  if  possible,  for  this  is  the  memorable 
spot  where  the  eighteen  men  in  the  shallop  of  the  M ay- 
flower  landed  on  the  night  of  Saturday,  December  20, 
1620.  They  had  left  the  ship  at  Provincetown  in  search 
of  a  suitable  place  for  the  settlement  of  the  wait- 
ing Pilgrims. 

From  a  large  rock  on  the  island,  which  now  bears 
the  inscription  'On  the  Sabbath  Day  we  rested,'  the 
first  prayer  was  offered,  it  is  said,  on  New  England 
shores.  The  netxt  day  the  Pilgrims  of  the  shallop 
sailed  over  to  the  mainland,  and  decided  that  there 
the  Mayflower  should  come  and  the  first  settlement 
should  be  made. 

At  last  the  visitor  is  ready  for  Plymouth  itself. 
Whether  his  entry  is  by  rail  or  by  highway  he  will 
come  to  the  prosperous  town  by  Court  Street,  passing 
Memorial  Hall  with  its  priceless  relics  of  the  brave 
men  and  women  of  long  ago,  and  looking  up  to  the 
hills  which  first  attracted  the  ship-weary  seekers  for 
religious  liberty.  The  last  of  these  hills  is  Burial  Hill 
—one  hundred  and  sixty-five  feet  high.  The  usual 
approach  to  this  historic  cemetery  is  by  the  steps  at 
the  head  of  Leyden  Street,  between  the  churches.  But 
some  think  it  is  better  to  enter  from  the  rear,  making 

67 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  the  impressive  entrance  an  exit  on  the  way  to  the 
memorable  Bock. 

While  there  are  on  Burial  Hill  no  stones  that  date 
from  the  earlier  years  of  the  settlement  of  the  colony, 
there  is  abundant  interest  for  the  reverent  stroller. 
Many  of  the  oldest  stones  are  framed  in  protecting 
galvanized  iron,  while  one — the  oldest  original  stone — 
is  set  in  the  heart  of  a  modern  granite  slab. 

Burial  Hill  offers  one  of  the  finest  views  of  the  Bay, 
bounded  on  the  left  by  the  height  where  looms  the 
Standish  monument.  In  front  is  the  long  sand  spit 
that  reaches  back  to  the  uplands.  To  one  side  is 
Manomet,  the  famous  height  where  Massasoit  some- 
times conferred  with  his  friends  the  colonists. 

The  steps  from  Burial  Hill  lead  to  "the  oldest 
street  in  New  England, "  Leyden  Street,  where  grow 
the  famous  lindens.  The  Pilgrims  came  by  way  of 
Holland,  where  the  linden  is  a  favorite  tree. 

Not  far  away  is  Coles  Hill,  the  original  burial  ground 
where,  during  the  first  winter,  the  graves  were  dug 
for  half  the  colony.  No  stones  marked  their  resting 
place,  for  the  survivors,  facing  the  attacks  of  Indians 
who  might  learn  of  their  weakness,  planted  the  ground 
with  corn. 

The  way  to  the  Rock  is  down  the  street  that  leads 
to  the  water  front,  past  dismal  stores  of  foreigners 
who  have  followed  in  the  steps  of  the  fathers.  For 
a  time  the  stone  rested,  after  many  adventures,  above 
the  tide,  under  a  canopy  that  inspired  as  much  ridicule 
as  the  relic  inspired  reverence.  But  a  part  of  the  plan 
for  the  Tercentenary  Celebration  of  1920  was  the 
removal  of  the  relic  to  tide  level,  and  the  erection 
above  it  of  a  simple  marble  portico. 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

Now  for  Cape  Cod  and  Provincetown,  where  the 
Pilgrims  first  landed.  Here  is  the  eighteen-mile 
section  where  a  good  highway  urges  the  traveler  to 
forsake  the  roundabout  railroad.  Those  who  do  not  do 
so  will  miss  an  easy  chance  to  go  to  Billington  Sea  and 
the  Great  South  Pond,  to  the  right  of  Manomet,  one 
of  which  was  probably  the  " Great  Pond"  to  which 
Carver  and  his  companions  went  on  that  day  in  early 
March,  when  they  were  in  search  of  evidence  of  the 
spring  that  was  to  end  the  cruel  winter  of  1620. 

Near  the  close  of  the  eighteen-mile  gap  between 
Plymouth  and  the  Cape  Cod  Canal — a  canal  cut  to 
fulfill  the  long-standing  dream  of  an  easy  passage 
from  Boston  to  the  waters  of  Long  Island  Sound — is 
Sagamore  Beach,  with  its  wonderful  spring  of  fresh 
water.  A  little  farther  on  is  Sandwich,  where  Standish 
once  came  near  losing  his  life.  With  some  companions, 
he  had  gone  south  of  Plymouth  in  search  of  corn.  An 
Indian  who  wished  to  murder  him,  urged  him  to  lie 
down  and  sleep.  But  the  wise  captain  insisted  that  he 
"had  no  desire  to  rest,"  and  the  Indian  was  fooled. 

The  southern  shore  of  Cape  Cod  is  an  interesting 
place.  The  scenery  may  not  amount  to  much,  but  think 
of  the  associations !  It  is  said  that  Squanto,  the  friend 
of  the  Pilgrims,  is  buried  on  Pleasant  Bay  in  Harwich, 
for  there  he  died  after  asking  Governor  Bradford  to 
pray  that  his  spirit  might  go  to  the t '  white  man's  God. ' ' 

And  southeast  of  Harwich  is  a  dread  region  which 
has  seen  disaster  for  hundreds  of  years.  There,  it  is 
held  by  many,  were  the  "  wonderstrands  "  oil  which 
Erie  the  Norseman  more  than  nine  hundred  years  ago 
broke  the  keel  of  his  ship.  A  modern  visitor  to  the  spot 
declares  that  these  " wonderstrands"  were  the  "dan- 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

gerous  shoals "  of  Bradford's  history,  which  alone 
prevented  the  settlement  of  the  Pilgrims  south  of  New 
England.  "  Today  they  would  not  divert  the  voyage 
of  the  Mayflower,  for  Monomoy  Point,  which  now  runs 
as  a  long  sand  spit  due  south  for  seven  miles,  is 
composed  of  the  same  material  that  in  1620  made 
out  in  a  long  point  running  due  east.  The  Pilgrims 
returned  to  Provincetown  simply  because  Monomoy 
then  pointed  east." 

From  Monomoy  and  Chatham  and  Orleans  the 
curving  peninsula  pursues  its  sandy  way  a  little  north 
of  west  to  Princetown  and  Cape  Cod.  Thoreau 
called  this  last  section  of  the  peninsula  "the  bared 
and  bended  arm  of  Massachusetts." 

And  it  is  bare.  There  is  sand  in  hills,  sand  in 
windrows,  sand  everywhere.  Eock  is  all  but  unknown, 
so  that  brick  must  be  used  for  foundations.  Thoreau, 
in  his  famous  study  of  Cape  Cod,  noticed  the  fact  that 
vessels  are  forbidden  to  take  stone  from  the  beach  for 
ballast,  and  that  the  crews  will  sometimes  land  at  night 
to  steal  them. 

Captain  John  Smith  preceded  the  Pilgrims  to  the 
peninsula.  In  his  "New  England"  he  spoke  of  it  as 
"only  a  headland  of  high  hills  of  sand,  overgrowne 
with  shrubbie  pines,  brush  and  such  trash,  but  an 
excellent  harbour  for  all  weathers.  The  Cape  is  made 
by  the  Maine  sea  on  the  one  side  and  a  great  Bay  on 
the  other,  in  the  form  of  a  sickle." 

When  the  weary  visitors  from  Holland  came  to 
Provincetown  they  saw  "a  goodly  land"  which  was 
"wooded  to  the  brinke  of  the  sea." 

Four  days  later  a  party  went  ashore,  guided  by 
Myles  Standish,  and  explored  the  country.  They  had 

70 


FROM  BOSTON  TO  CAPE  COD 

gone  but  a  mile  when  they  met  a  number  of  Indians 
and  a  ' '  dogg. ' '  The  explorers  kept  on  their  way  until 
they  came  to  the  place  where  the  town  of  Truro  now 
is.  Here  they  saw  "new  stubble  where  come  had  been 
set  ye  same  year;  also  they  found  where  lately  a  house 
had  been  where  some  planks  and  a  great  kettle  were 
remaining  and  heaps  of  sand  newly  paddled  with  their 
hands,  which  they,  digging  up,  found  in  them  diverse 
fine  Indian  basket  filled  with  corne." 

On  November  17  when  they  returned  to  the  May- 
flower, it  was  necessary  to  "  wade  above  the  knees." 
The  exposure  had  fatal  effects.  "Some  of  our  people 
that  are  dead  took  the  original  of  their  deaths  here," 
wrote  Governor  Bradford  later. 

Provincetown  was  not  settled  until  1680,  and  the 
name  it  now  bears  was  not  given  to  it  until  1727. 
Nearly  two  centuries  later  the  monument  commemo- 
rating the  first  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  on  the  site  of 
the  town  was  built  on  a  sandy  hillock,  the  only  eminence 
near.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high  it  stands, 
proclaiming  to  all  who  approach  the  shore  that  here 
was  the  real  beginning  of  American  liberty. 


CHAPTER  X 
THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  BERKSHIRES 

THE  traveler  who  has  chosen  any  one  of  the 
many  routes  through  the  famous  Berkshire 
Hills  is  apt  to  declare  that  his  is  the  best  way 
of  approach.  And  it  is  difficult  to  disprove  his 
statement,  since,  however  approached,  the  Berkshire 
country  is  surpassingly  beautiful.  The  chosen  route 
may  be  from  Springfield,  by  railroad  along  the  narrow 
Westfield  River,  directly  to  Pittsfield*  and  then  north. 
It  may  be  by  the  turnpike  which  leaves  the  route 
of  the  railroad,  ambles  over  to  Lenox,  and  then 
approaches  Pittsfield. 

Another  favorite  route  is  by  the  automobile  road 
from  Canaan  over  the  state  line  in  Connecticut,  or  by 
the  parallel  Berkshire  Street  Railway.  This  follows 
the  valley  of  the  Housatonic  to  Pittsfield,  with  points 
of  great  interest  everywhere,  passing  a  dozen  summits 
approaching  two  thousand  feet  high.  Historic  Great 
Barrington  looks  off  to  the  east  to  two  of  these  summits, 
and  to  the  west  to  the  Dome  of  the  Taconics.  This 
town  was  once  the  home  of  William  Cullen  Bryant, 
who  was  town  clerk  there. 

Two  miles  to  the  right  of  the  road,  and  across  the 
river,  rises  October  Mountain,  one  of  the  highest 
summits  south  of  Pittsfield,  where  William  C.  Whitney 
had  his  estate,  there  he  had  fourteen  thousand  acres 
of  primeval  forest,  and  there  kept  numbers  of  buffalo, 
elk,  deer,  moose  and  antelope. 

72 


THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  BERKSHIRES    w 

To  the  east  of  October  Mountain  is  Lenox,  noted  for 
the  magnificent  estates  of  famous  Americans,  and  for 
the  fact  that  there  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  wrote  "The 
House  of  Seven  Gables,"  in  a  house  still  standing, 
while  Henry  Ward  Beecher  and  James  Eussell  Lowell 
liked  to  go  there  when  vacation-time  called  them. 

Two  more  literary  sites  help  to  make  the  region 
noteworthy.  Near  the  junction  of  Sackett  Brook 
with  the  Housatonic,  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  used  to 
spend  his  summers  on  the  Wendell  estate.  The  lone 
pine  tree  celebrated  in  one  of  his  poems  stands  near 
the  road.  Not  two  miles  away,  within  the  limits  of 
Pittsfield,  is  the  house  once  owned  by  the  father-in- 
law  of  Longfellow,  where  stood  "The  Old  Clock  on 
the  Stairs. " 

Pittsfield  may  be  entered  from  the  west  also  by 
a  route  directly  from  the  Catskills,  through  Hudson, 
on  the  river  of  the  same  name.  Between  Hudson  and 
Chatham  is  some  of  the  best  of  New  York's  rural 
scenery.  The  hills  and  valleys  of  this  section  are  not 
well  known,  because  no  through  route  goes  that  way. 
But  why  think  of  through  routes  when,  by  taking  a  few 
hours  extra,  it  is  possible  to  go  through  country  of 
ever- varying  charm?  Who  could  ask  for  anything 
better  than  a  summer  day  of  leisurely  passing  from 
Hudson  to  Chatham,  from  Chatham  to  Pittsfield,  and 
from  Pittsfield  to  North  Adams? 

How  pleasant  it  is  to  watch  the  hills  grow  larger, 
and  more  commanding!  How  like  a  discoverer  the 
traveler  feels  as  one  by  one  Nature  lays  fresh  treasures 
before  him!  What  if  others  have  preceded  him  over 
the  road?  What  if  he  has  been  told  what  he  will  see? 
No  telling  is  like  the  reality;  no  description  can  be  as 

73 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

good  as  looking  on  the  masterpieces  where  forest  and 
meadow  vie  with  tinkling  brook  and  verdant  mountain- 
side to  make  necessary  independent  investigation. 

Canaan,  the  New  York  town  close  to  the  border, 
has  an  appetizing  name.  In  a  valley,  girded  about 
by  long  slopes,  it  looks  like  a  land  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey.  Now  and  then  the  railroad  cuts  through 
one  of  the  rock-ribbed  hills.  Did  you  ever  stand  on 
the  rear  platform  on  entering  such  a  tunnel,  and  watch 
the  receding  landscape  through  the  portal?  Perhaps 
you  think  that  there  cannot  be  another  scene  as  pleasing 
as  that  you  are  leaving  behind.  But  when  you  are 
well  on  the  other  side  of  the  tunnel,  there  is  a  valley 
that  is  even  easier  to  look  at;  a  fresh  circle  of  hills 
bounds  you  as  in  an  amphitheatre  which  opens  only  to 
disclose  another  series  of  bounding  ridges  beyond. 

In  Pittsfield  the  view  is  from  a  height  instead  of 
from  the  valley.  The  Park,  the  center  of  city  life,  is 
on  an  eminence,  from  which  the  tree-embowered  streets 
slope  away  to  the  valley.  Each  one  of  these  streets 
looks  so  inviting  that  it  is  not  easy  to  choose  which 
to  follow  first.  But  before  leaving  the  Park  it  is  best 
to  pause  at  the  First  Congregational  Church,  which 
stands  on  the  site  of  the  church  from  which  "Fighting 
Parson  Allen"  led  the  men  of  Berkshire  to  the  battle 
of  Bennington. 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  the  neighborhood  of 
Berkshire  is  not  a  well-kept  park.  But  it  is  open 
country  where  trees  and  meadows  and  lakes  are  framed 
in  mountains  that  become  always  more  insistent  in 
their  claims  to  attention. 

At  length  the  crowning  glory  of  the  Massachusetts 
mountains  is  in  sight.  Old  Greylock,  3505  feet  high, 

74 


THROUGH  THE  HEART  OP  THE  BERKSHIRES 

looms  huge  behind  the  town  of  Adams.  The  vivid 
green  of  its  eastern  slope  is  broken  by  a  bare  strip 
which  marks  the  course  of  a  great  landslide.  To  the 
east  rise  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Hoosac  Mountains, 
but  the  eye  turns  from  them  and  lingers  on  the  giant 
to  the  west,  which — so  geologists  say — is  one  of  the 
oldest  mountains  in  the  world.  Once,  they  claim,  the 
summit  was  nearly  twice  as  high  as  it  is  today ;  it  has 
been  lowered  by  the  sweeping  down  of  great  masses 
of  rock  to  the  Green  River  and  so  to  the  sea. 

The  prospect  from  this  roof  of  Massachusetts  is 
impressive.  On  a  clear  day  the  eye  takes  in  the  country 
for  one  hundred  to  two  hundred  miles  in  all  directions. 
To  the  west,  across  Green  River  valley,  is  the  main 
range  of  the  Taconics.  To  the  northeast  is  Raven 
Rock  Peak,  which  is  joined  to  Greylock  by  Bellows' 
Pipe  Park,  a  belt  of  pasture  land  at  an  elevation  of 
more  than  two  thousand  feet. 

Greylock  is  the  monument  of  Grey  Lock,  the  Woro- 
noak  chief  tian  who  died  in  1724.  On  the  summit,  where 
he  delighted  to  climb,  there  has  been  set  apart  the 
Greylock  Park  Reservation.  The  beginning  of  this 
Reservation  was  made  in  1885,  when  an  association  of 
public-spirited  men  and  women  subscribed  twenty 
thousand  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  four  hundred 
acres  of  land.  After  building  a  road  from  North 
Adams  to  the  summit,  the  association  agreed  with  the 
state  to  make  its  holdings  a  part  of  the  ten  thousand 
acre  reservation  made  by  Massachusetts  for  the  lasting 
pleasure  of  mountain  lovers. 

Both  North  Adams  and  Williamstown  have  a  claim 
to  Greylock.  For  generations  the  climb  to  the  summit 
has  been  a  privilege  held  out  to  visitors.  The  students 

75 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

and  professors  of  Williams  College  have  made  it  a 
place  of  pilgrimage.  The  first  observatory  tower  was 
built  by  a  company  of  men  from  college  about  1830. 
William  Cullen  Bryant  was  among  the  students  who 
haunted  its  forest-clad  slopes;  inspiration  for  many 
of  his  poems  came  to  him  while  in  these  lofty  surround- 
ing^ It  is  a  tradition  in  the  college  town  that  he 
composed  u  Thanatopsis"  while  walking  along  Flora's 
Glen,  now  known  as  Thanatopsis  Glen.  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne  spoke  of  the  visits  toward  Greylock  as  a 
day-dream,  while  Thoreau  wrote, ' '  It  would  be  no  small 
advantage  if  every  college  were  thus  located  at  the 
base  of  a  mountain,  as  good  at  least  as  one  wall-endowed 
professorship."  Perhaps  the  proximity  of  the  moun- 
tain had  an  influence  on  the  students  whose  enthusiasm 
for  the  world  led  to  the  birth  of  American  Missions, 
as  commemorated  by  the  Haystack  Monument  in  the 
old  college  town. 

The  railroad  station  at  North  Adams,  just  below 
an  overhanging  bare  granite  slope,  is  the  point  of 
departure  for  the  next  wonder  of  the  neighborhood,  the 
Hoosac  Tunnel,  whose  four  and  three-quarter  miles 
make  it  the  longest  tunnel  in  America.  When  it  was 
completed,  it  was  the  longest  in  the  world,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Mount  Cenis  tunnel 

Two  summits  of  the  Hooeacs  long  stood  in  the  way 
of  transportation  from  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut 
to  the  valley  of  the  Hudson;  to  the  east  was  a  barrier 
fourteen  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  while  to  the  west 
was  another  three  hundred  feet  higher.  Between  the 
mountains  was  a  valley  nearly  one  thousand  feet  high. 

In  1825  daring  men  first  proposed  the  cutting  of  a 
tunnel  for  a  canal  from  Boston  to  the  Hudson,  but 


THROUGH  THE  HEART  OF  THE  BERKSHIRES 

the  beginning  was  not  made  until  1856.  Progress  was 
slow,  for  at  first  all  work  was  done  by  hand  drills. 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  once  said  that  the  millennium 
would  arrive  before  its  completion.  But  all  difficulties 
were  overcome,  and  the  great  work  was  finally  com- 
pleted by  the  state  in  1874,  after  the  expenditure  of 
fourteen  million  dollars,  and  the  loss  of  nearly  two 
hundred  lives.  The  invention  of  nitro-glycerine,  the 
power  drill,  and  the  compressed  air  drill  made  possible 
what  long  seemed  impossible.  To  the  amazement  even 
of  the  engineers  there  was  a  variation  of  but  five-six- 
teenths of  an  inch  between  the  heading  driven  from  the 
east  and  that  which  approached  it  from  the  west. 

Where  the  railroad  emerges  from  the  tunnel  it 
follows  a  winding,  funnel-like  passage  for  miles  by  the 
side  of  the  Deerfield  River  as  it  dashes  enticingly  over 
the  stones  and  among  fantastic  bowlders.  Soon  the 
country  opens  out  and  the  valley  broadens.  As  the 
miles  pass  the  stream  flows  more  sedately,  yet  it  is 
still  amid  the  rocks,  and  there  is  such  variety  that 
no  one  dares  to  say  that  the  end  of  the  turbid  part 
of  the  river  has  been  reached.  All  the  way  to  the 
junction  withi  the  Connecticut  it  has  surprises  for 
the  saunterer  on  its  banks — here  a  cool  aisle  among  the 
arching  trees,  there  a  long  sweep  across  the  meadows, 
again  a  game  of  hide  and  seek  with  the  playful  rocks, 
or,  in  more  serious  mood,  it  lingers  in  the  deep  pools 
above  a  power  dam  that  turns  the  busy  spindles.  Thus 
it  makes  ready  for  the  strenuous  company  it  will  keep 
on  the  way  from  Greenfield  to  Long  Island  Sound. 


CHAPTER  XI 
FEOM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

A  PASSENGER  who  hailed  from  New  Haven  was 
leaning  on  the  rail  of  a  Long  Island  Sound 
steamer.    Silently  he  looked  toward  the  wind- 
ing shore  of  Long  Island,  and  the  green  fields  beyond. 
Then  came  a  sigh  and  a  shaking  of  the  head. 

*  *  New  York  should  never  have  claimed  Long  Island, ' ' 
he  explained.  "By  every  right  it  belongs  to  Connec- 
ticut. It  was  a  part  of  Connecticut,  until  an  arm  of 
the  sea  rushed  in  and  separated  them.  And  still  it 
is  closer  to  Connecticut  than  it  is  to  New  York — all 
except  the  western  end  where  the  city  has  reached  out 
its  greedy  tentacles  to  take  in  Brooklyn.  Then  Connec- 
ticut colonized  much  of  it.  You  know  that  in  1643 
settlers  went  over  from  Stamford  to  the  north  shore, 
settling  on  land  bought  from  the  Indians,  and  that  in 
1640  men  from  Lynn,  Massachusetts,  made  homes  on 
Peconic  Bay.  In  1662  the  new  Colony  of  Connecticut 
claimed  authority  over  eastern  Long  Island.  And  then 
we  lost  it!" 

Again  he  shook  his  head  sadly.  Evidently  he  was 
thinking  of  Far  Rockaway  and  Great  South  Bay,  of 
Montauk  and  Shelter  Island,  of  the  Peconic  Bay  that 
pierces  from  the  east  into  the  interior  of  the  island,  of 
Long  Beach  and  Oyster  Bay,  of  Cold  Spring  Harbor 
and  its  interesting  Biological  Laboratory,  of  the  rolling 
meadows  and  the  inlets  from  the  sea  that  give  access 
for  sailboats  into  the  heart  of  the  land.  What  a 

78 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

wonderful  possession  for  New  York,  and  how  delighted 
Connecticut  would  be  to  have  it! 

Then  his  eye  shifted  to  the  Connecticut  shore,  and 
his  talk  shifted  as  well.  "But  we  ought  not  to  grudge 
it  to  New  York,  I  suppose,"  he  concluded.  "We  have 
a  wonderful  stretch  of  coast,  and,  without  Long  Island, 
the  Empire  State  would  have  only  the  few  miles  of 
East  Eiver  and  the  bit  at  the  beginning  of  the  Sound. " 

In  1731  Connecticut  did  manage  to  extend  her  coast 
line  at  the  expense  of  her  neighbor  to  the  west.  That 
was  the  year  of  the  final  settlement  of  a  long-standing 
dispute  as  to  the  western  line  of  Connecticut.  A  tract 
of  sixty  thousand  acres  was  ceded  to  New  York  in 
exchange  for  an  equivalent  on  the  southwest.  Thus 
history  accounts  for  the  awkward  lines  that  make 
possible  the  catch  question  of  the  schoolmaster  who 
expects  people  to  know  that  Connecticut  is  bounded  on 
the  south  by  New  York,  while  New  York,  in  turn  is 
bounded  on  the  south  by  Connecticut. 

Less  than  twenty  miles  of  Long  Island  Sound's 
northern  shore  was  added  to  the  indented  coast  line 
of  the  Nutmeg  State.  But  these  twenty  miles  include 
picturesque  crooks  and  bends,  as  well  as  inlets  and 
islands.  There  is  also  included  the  site  of  Stamford.  So 
that  picturesque  city,  founded  in  1641  by  twenty-nine 
settlers  from  Wethersfield,  and  called  Rippowam  for  a 
few  months,  would  have  been — but  for  the  fortunate 
settlement — within  the  bounds  of  New  York. 

Reluctantly  the  Indians  yielded  ground  to  these 
early  settlers ;  they  were  beginning  to  realize  that  the 
white  man  was  destined  to  rule  where  for  centuries 
they  had  hunted  and  fished. 

Only  four  years  before  the  sale  of  Rippowam  the 

79 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

dusky  owners  had  an  object  lesson  in  the  battle  which 
ended  the  Pequot  War ;  this  was  fought  close  to  West- 
port,  less  than  fifteen  miles  from  Stamford.  Those 
who  seek  the  site  of  the  conflict  have  only  to  ascend 
the  Westport  River  a  few  miles  to  the  region  where, 
instead  of  a  sprawling  inlet,  it  becomes  a  sedate  stream 
confined  closely  to  regulation  banks.  Close  to  the  town 
is  a  granite  block  that  tells  of  The  Great  Swamp  Fight 
July  13, 1637. 

Just  a  little  beyond  Westport,  and  close  to  the  sea, 
is  Fairfield,  the  center  of  Connecticut's  witchcraft 
delusion.  Here  four  women  were  indicted.  One  of 
these  was  sentenced  to  death,  but  fortunately  she 
escaped  one  night  in  1692. 

Much  of  the  shore  between  Fairfield  and  Bridgeport 
Harbor  is  laid  out  as  Seaside  Park,  which,  Bridgeport 
boasts,  is  one  of  the  finest  parks  in  New  England.  It 
is  a  monument  to  men  like  P.  T.  Barnum,  the  showman, 
and  Nathaniel  Wheeler,  of  sewing  machine  fame. 

Bridgeport  rejoices  in  the  fact  that  the  city  dates 
back  to  1691,  as  well  as  in  the  marvelous  industrial 
prosperity  that  began  when  the  first  railroad  reached 
the  shore  of  Pequannock  in  1840. 

The  stranger  would  expect  to  find  another  great 
industrial  city  at  the  mouth  of  the  Housatonic  Eiver, 
which  brings  down  to  the  Sound  the  flavor  of  the 
Berkshires.  But  Connecticut  has  so  many  streams 
entering  the  Sound  that  it  could  hardly  be  expected 
that  a  town  of  note  would  mark  the  mouth  of  each  of 
them.  In  fact,  there  are  so  many  of  these  streams  that 
there  is  a  singular  paucity  of  names.  For  instance, 
in  the  forty-mile  stretch  from  Stamford  to  New  Haven 
there  are  three  Mill  Eivers ! 

80 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

New  Haven  has  a  majestic  approach  from  the 
Sound.  The  wide  sweep  of  New  Haven  Bay  leads  to 
the  sentinel  East  Eock  and  its  companion  West  Bock, 
each  close  to  four  hundred  feet  high,  which  guard  the 
city  on  either  side.  Far  beyond  the  city  there  is  another 
landmark  for  which  the  navigator  learns  to  look — the 
West  Peak  of  the  Hanging  Hills,  near  Southington, 
twenty-five  miles  away,  the  southern  terminus  of  the 
range  of  volcanic  hills  which  come  down  from  the  north. 

Once  the  Sound  reached  far  up  toward  the  hills; 
both  Mill  Eiver  and  Quinnipiac  Kiver  flow  between 
banks  that  have  risen  above  the  surface  of  the  waters, 
then  branches  of  the  sea. 

These  natural  waterways  did  not  satisfy  aspiring 
New  Haven.  In  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  longing  for  some  of  the  trade  from  the  north 
that  was  coming  to  the  Sound  by  way  of  navigable 
streams,  the  town  joined  hands  with  Farmington  and 
other  communities  up  the  state  in  constructing  the 
Farmington  Canal,  which  eventually  led  to  Northamp- 
ton in  Massachusetts.  There  was  great  excitement 
when,  in  1835,  the  twenty-eight  locks  in  Connecticut 
and  the  thirty-two  locks,  in  Massachusetts  were  thrown 
open,  and  boats  like  the  Wild- fire  moved  serenely 
along  the  "Baging  Canawl,"  at  the  speed  of  from  two- 
and-a-half  to  even  five  miles  an  hour.  But  the  locks 
were  the  death  of  the  improvement — there  were  so 
many  of  them  and  the  expense  of  building  and  main- 
taining them  was  so  great,  that  the  artificial  waterway 
could  not  pay  expenses,  and  it  gave  way  to  the  railroad. 

So  New  Haven  lost  her  canal.  But  she  still  has 
her  famous  Green,  a  social  center  that  is  to  New  Haven 
what  the  Common  is  to  Boston.  In  1638,  when  the 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

town  was  founded,  the  Green  was  set  apart,  and  for 
nearly  three  hundred  years  it  has  witnessed  the  joys 
and  the  sorrows  of  passing  generations.  There  the 
first  elm  trees  were  planted  in  1686.  There  White- 
field  preached  in  the  brooding  shade  of  the  trees. 
There  indignant  citizens  gathered  to  hurl  anathemas 
at  the  authors  of  the  iniquitous  Stamp  Act.  There 
citizens  strolled  along  the  criss-cross  paths  on  the  way 
to  the  churches  whose  steeples  rose  among  the  bordering 
trees,  and  since  then  visitors  have  loitered  in  reluctance 
to  leave  the  charmed  spot.  For  more  than  two  hundred 
years  Yale  students  have  made  pilgrimage  from  the 
old  Quadrangle  to  the  open  space  that  has  meant  as 
much  to  the  city  on  the  Sound  as  the  Old  Fence  has 
meant  to  the  seniors  who  were  privileged  to  sit  on  its 
top  rail. 

Yearly  the  center  of  Yale  interest  is  transferred 
from  New  Haven  along  the  Sound,  past  the  mouth  of 
the  Connecticut  at  Saybrook,  first  seat  of  the  College, 
past  Hatchett's  Point  and  Niantic  Bay,  to  New  London 
and  the  Thames  River.  For  there  the  stage  is  set 
for  the  annual  contest  with  Harvard  for  the  mastery 
of  the  racing  shells.  Gales  Ferry,  eight  miles  from 
New  London,  the  chosen  headquarters  for  the  Yale 
crews,(  is  a  lively  place  for  a  few  weeks  before  the 
racing  season. 

Within  easy  distance  of  the  mouth  of  the  Thames 
is  Block  Island,  whose  story  dates  at  least  as  far 
back  as  1636,  when  vengeance  came  down  from  the 
Connecticut  Eiver  on  Indian  murderers  of  John 
Oldham,  trader  to  the  bleak  and  barren  Block  Island, 
that  looks  like  an  outcast  from  its  neighbor,  Long 


MEANDERS  OF  MILL  RIVER  IN  FOREGROUND;  NEW  HAVEN, 
CONNECTICUT,  IN  BACKGROUND 


ROCKY  SHORE  ON  THE  SOUTH  SIDE  OF  BLOCK  ISLAND 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

Island.  Connecticut  was  not  able  to  lay  hands  even 
on  this  rugged  outpost  of  a  stormswept  coast,  though 
Massachusetts,  the  parent  of  Connecticut,  asserted 
authority  over  the  murderous  Indians  by  demanding 
a  penalty  of  four  fathoms  of  wampum.  Rhode  Island, 
heir  to  the  interests  of  Massachusetts,  rules  over  Block 
Island  and  the  small  company  of  those  who  find  a  living 
among  the  salt  ponds,  the  rocks,  and  the  marshes  which 
yearly  attract  so  many  summer  pilgrims. 

Block  Island  bears  the  name  of  the  Dutch  explorer, 
Adrian  Block,  who  visited  these  waters  in  1614,  though 
the  Dutch  map  of  the  next  few  years  called  it  Adrian's 
Eyland.  Verazzano,  who  explored  the  island  in  1624, 
attempted  to  call  it  Claudia,  but  he  was  unsuccessful 
in  making  the  name  of  his  choice  persist.  In  the 
account  of  his  visit  he  called  attention  to  the  hills  in 
terms  a  little  more  complimentary  than  the  modern 
writer  who  says :  *  *  It  is  doubtful  whether  a  more  uneven 
surface  on  the  earth  can  be  pointed  out.  No  person 
ever  saw  the  surface  of  the  ocean  more  uneven  than 
is  Block  Island,  excepting  those  who  survived  the  flood 
in  the  days  of  Noah." 

The  description  may  be  more  or  less  true  of  parts 
of  the  island,  but  there  are  other  portions  where  easy 
roads  wind  attractively  among  the  fertile  green  fields. 

In  1660  sixteen  men  became  purchasers  of  these 
uneven  acres  by  payment  of  £400.  Later  the  island 
became  the  refuge  of  deserters  in  time  of  war  who 
found  among  the  bogs  and  marshes  a  secure  hiding 
place.  And  it  was  long  the  haunt  of  wreckers  who 
lured  ships  on  the  rocks  for  the  sake  of  pillage.  In 
"The  Palatine"  Whittier  has  related  the  legend  of 

83 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

one  famous  wreck  on  what  he  called  Manisees,  the 
Indian  name  for  the  island : 

"Leagues  north.,  as  fly  the  gull  and  auk, 
Point  Judith  watches  with  eye  of  hawk; 
Leagues  south,  thy  beacon  flame,  Montaukl 

"Circled  by  waters  that  never  freeze, 
Beaten  by  billow  and  swept  by  breeze, 
Lieth  the  island  of  Manisees. 

"Set  at  the  mouth  of  the  Sound  to  hold 
The  coast  lights  up  on  its  turret  old, 
Yellow  with  moss  and  sea  fog  mould." 

" Leagues  north  of  Block  Island,"  Point  Judith 
reaches  out  toward  the  Atlantic,  one  of  the  most 
prominent  headlands  on  Rhode  Island's  four  hundred 
miles  of  seacoast.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  there 
is  so  much  of  the  coast,  for  the  state  is  only  fifty  per 
cent  larger  than  the  Okefinokee  Swamp  in  Georgia. 
But  the  various  passages  of  Narragansett  Bay,  studded 
by  islands  that  are  simply  beautiful  and  others  that 
are  wonderfully  beautiful,  afford  hidden  opportunities 
of  which  the  searching  surf  takes  full  advantage. 

Point  Judith  was  a  landmark  of  the  Narragansett 
Country,  which  extended  to  East  Greenwich  on  the 
north  and  to  the  Pawcatuck  River  on  the  west.  The 
river,  by  the  way,  is  of  more  prominence  in  history  than 
its  size  would  indicate,  for  it  figured  in  the  boundary 
controversy  with  Connecticut.  The  Nutmeg  State  held 
that  the  Narragansett  River  which  formed  her  eastern 
boundary  was  Narragansett  Bay.  The  counter-claim 
was  that  Pawcatuck  River  was  the  real  Narragansett 
River.  Fortunatly  for  Rhode  Island,  Connecticut's 
claim  did  not  hold.  Fortunately  also  for  Rhode  Island, 

84 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

the  state  has  other  streams  even  more  picturesquely 
named.  For  instance,  there  is  the  Pettaquamscutt,  the 
Saugatucket,  the  Chepuxit,  and  the  Sakonet! 

The  southern  border  of  the  Narragansett  Country 
is  bounded  on  the  west  by  Watch  Hill,  whose  beach 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Pawcatuck  is  sought  by  eager 
tourists,  while  it  is  bounded  on  the  east  by  famous 
Narragansett  Pier.  Between  the  two  resorts  stretches 
an  almost  continuous  sandy  beach  bounded  on  the 
south  by  the  ocean,  on  the  north  by  salt  water  marshes. 
Once  Indians  sought  the  sea  on  these  beaches,  and 
today  their  white  successors  come  by  thousands  to 
swim  and  fish,  or  it  may  be  merely  to  take  long,  satisfied 
looks  at  sky  and  water,  or  back  to  the  land  where 
swamps  and  hills  lead  up  to  the  highest  eminence  in 
the  state — Durfee  Hill,  more  than  eight  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea. 

Back  among  those  hills  and  ponds,  as  well  as  along 
the  shores  of  Narragansett  Bay,  were  the  old  planta- 
tions of  the  days  of  slavery  in  Rhode  Island,  where, 
Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  declared,  are  remains 
of  old  houses  that  recall  the  feudal  system  better  than 
any  other  relics  in  America. 

In  keeping  with  the  leisurely  life  of  other  days 
is  the  modern  life  at  Narragansett  Pier,  with  its  bright 
lights  and  it  gay  throngs,  its  spirited  assemblages  on 
the  beach  and  in  the  casino,  its  shore  walk  with  water 
on  one  side  and  green  lawns  sloping  to  houses  called 
cottages,  though  many  of  them  are  more  like  palaces. 

The  entrance  to  Narragansett  Bay  is  north  of  the 
Pier — rather,  the  entrances,  for  both  Conanicut  Island 
and  Ehode  Island  are  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  sea. 
The  intricate  shore  line  made  problems  for  the  old 

85 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

slave  traders  who  sought  Newport  Harbor  before  the 
Revolution,  as  today  they  increase  the  pleasure  of  the 
yachtsmen  who  sail  the  waters  of  the  bay. 

Rhode  Island  is  the  largest  of  the  many  islands  in 
the  archipelago  of  the  state  to  which  it  gave  its  name. 
The  Indians  called  it  Aquidneck,  "Isle  of  Peace. " 
Verazzano  in  1524  disregarded  this  title  and  called  it 
Luisa.  At  the  same  time  he  compared  it  to  the  Island 
of  Rhodes  in  the  Mediterranean.  That  comparison 
fixed  the  name  of  the  gem  of  Narragansett,  called  by  a 
historian  of  1715  "the  paradise  of  New  England/' 
which  was  "a  coat  warmer"  than  Boston,  though  it 
was  but  sixty-five  miles  away.  This  difference  is  due 
to  the  Gulf  Stream,  which  is  closer  to  Rhode  Island 
than  it  is  to  Boston. 

When  the  British  left  Newport  in  1779  the  town 
was  in  ruins.  '  *  But  I  doubt  not  the  town  will  be  rebuilt 
and  exceed  its  former  splendor, "  one  historian  of  the 
day  wrote.  It  has  been  rebuilt,  but  with  different 
splendor;  in  the  old  days  it  was  a  seaport,  with  docks 
a  mile  long,  and  it  even  aspired  to  be  the  metropolis 
of  America.  Today  it  is  a  resort  pre-eminent  in  the 
opinion  of  many  who  find  there  a;  restful  combination 
of  towering  cliff  and  boiling  surf,  of  green  hills  and 
shady  streets,  of  blue  water  dotted  with  the  white  sails 
of  speedy  yachts,  of  walks  that  are  quiet  and  peaceful 
and  other  walks  that  are  close  to  the  noise  and  con- 
fusion of  the  tireless  sea,  of  forts  and  lighthouse 
and  windmills. 

Among  the  windmills  of  the  island  many  thoughtful 
people  count  the  Old  Stone  Mill  in  Touro  Park  which 
has  been  the  subject  of  more  speculation  perhaps  than 
any  other  relic  in  America.  Longfellow  made  his  guess 

86 


FIRST  BAPTIST  CHURCH,    PROVIDENCE,   RHODE  ISLAND 
Erected    1774 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

as  to  this  ruin  when  he  wrote '  *  The  Skeleton  in  Armor. ' ' 
He  connected  the  town  with  the  Northmen,  and  made 
one  of  them  say : 

"There,   for   my  lady's  bower, 
Built  I  the  lofty  tower, 
Which  to  this  very  hour, 
Stands   looking    seaward." 

But  romance  has  been  pricked  effectively  by  a  study 
of  the  will  of  Benedict  Arnold,  the  first  charter  gover- 
nor of  the  colony,  who  referred  several  times  to  "My 
Stone  Built  Wind  Mill,"  and  in  such  a  manner 
that  its  identity  with  the  Bound  Tower  on  the  hill 
seems  certain. 

There  is  an  old  town  in  Newport,  and  there  is  a  new 
town.  But  it  is  the  old  town  that  demands  the  closest 
attention,  with  its  Trinity  Church  on  the  hill,  its 
Washington  Square,  its  State  House,  dating  from  1738, 
and  its  numerous  old  houses  that  speak  so  eloquently 
of  the  days  when  James  Fenimore  Cooper  wrote  *  *  The 
Eed  Rover. " 

Of  all  the  walks  about  Newport  many  find  greatest 
charm  in  the  Cliff  Walk,  three  and  one  half  miles  long, 
with  the  sea  far  below  on  the  one  hand,  while  on  the 
other  tower  the  summer  cottages  and  palaces  of  those 
whose  love  for  Newport  has  led  them  to  the  heights. 
Others  prefer  to  go  toward  Sachuest  Beach,  passing 
on  the  way  Purgatory,  a  yawning  chasm  in  the  rocky 
promontory  where  waves  tumble  and  crash  and  pound, 
as  if  in  ceasless  rage  for  the  legendary  lover  to  whom 
a  heedless  girl  once  said,  "Jump  the  chasm  if  you 
would  claim  my  hand. ' '  The  sequel  says  that  the  lover 
jumped  successfully  across  the  gap — which  is  eight 

87 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

feet  wide  at  its  narrowest  place — and  then  walked 
disdainfully  away,  determined  never  again  to  look  on 
the  face  of  the  heartless  woman. 

These  sea-swept  islands  where  the  surf  beats 
ceaselessly  were  so  attractive  both  to  Massachusetts 
and  Plymouth  Bay  Colonies  that  both  laid  claim  to 
them,  until  far  into  the  eighteenth  century.  Plymouth 
tried  to  retain  hold  of  the  region  east  of  the  Sakonnet, 
but  in  1746  she  yielded  her  claim  to  Cumberland, 
Warren,  Bristol,  Tiverton  and  Little  Compton. 

Across  from  Tiverton  isi  Portsmouth,  a  town  that 
claims  greater  age  than  Newport,  for  there  was  the 
first  settlement  made  in  Ehode  Island.  But  Bristol, 
across  the  channel  on  the  mainland,  claims  to  be  older 
by  hundreds  of  years.  'There,  her  people  assert,  was 
the  site  of  the  Vinland  of  the  Norsemen,  who  sailed 
up  the  Sakonnet  Eiver  about  the  year  1000. 

Following  the  lure  of  picturesque  waters,  the 
modern  successor  to  the  visitors  from  Plymouth  goes 
on  past  Bristol,  where  the  privateers  gathered  during 
the  War  of  1812,  up  Providence  Eiver  to  Providence, 
which  became  a  rival  of  Newport  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  The  founding  of  the 
institution  that  became  Brown  University  gave  prom- 
inence to  the  act  of  the  famous  Providence  Athenaeum, 
the  library,  thrown  open  in  1753,  which  ordered  that 
"whenever  the  General  Assembly  meets  in  Providence 
the  Librarian . . .  shall  deliver  to  whomsoever  they 
appoint  the  Keys  of  the  Library. .  .so  that  the  mem- 
bers may  have  opportunity  to  read  any  of  the  books 
if  they  see  Cause,  trusting  to  their  Honor  to  leave 
them  in  their  Place. ' ' 

The  waters  that  lead  from  Providence  back  to  the 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

open  ocean  are  left  behind  reluctantly  by  the  traveler 
who  is  studying  the  wonders  of  the  New  England 
coast.  "I  am  coming  this  way  again,"  he  is  apt  to 
promise  himself,  before  he  faces  forward  to  Buzzard's 
Bay,  with  New  Bedford,  of  whale-ship  fame,  on  the 
left,  the  Elizabeth  Islands  on  the  right,  and  in  between 
the  ships  whose  navigators  rejoice  in  the  Cape  Cod 
Canal  that  has  enabled  them  to  cut  off  many  miles 
of  tempestuous  sailing  around  the  long  coast  line 
of  Barnstable. 

South  of  Barnstable  lies  a  strange  but  delightful 
group  of  islands  which  look  on  the  map  like  remnants 
of  the  lower  jaw  of  an  elephant  whose  upper  jaw  and 
uplifted  trunk  is  formed  by  Barnstable,  whose  gaping 
mouth  is  Nantucket  Sound,  guarded  by  Monomoy 
Island  and  Great  Point,  the  teeth ;  whose  throat  passage 
is  Vineyard  Sound.  The  Elizabeth  Islands  form  one 
side  of  this  passage*,  while  the  other  side  is  formed 
by  Martha's  Vineyard.  The  latter  island  stretches 
away  to  the  east  where  Muskeget  Channel  and  Mus- 
keget  and  Tuckermuck  Islands  show  where  once  must 
have  been  solid  land  that  connected  the  Vineyard  and 
Nantucket.  The  similarity  of  vegetation  on  the  two 
islands  that  form  the  southern  frontier  of  Massachu- 
setts helps  to  confirm  the  idea  that  in  the  days  of  long 
ago  they  were  one. 

Imaginary?  Perhaps.  But  the  indescribable  charm 
of  Martha's  Vineyard  is  anything  but  imaginary. 
Whether  the  traveler  approaches  its  shore  from 
Newport  or  from  Wood's  Hole,  through  Vineyard 
Sound,  or  comes  past  No  Man's  Land  and  the  southern 
shore  where  the  waves  from  the  broad  Atlantic  sweep 
without  restraint  on  a  beach  twenty  miles  long,  he  will 

89 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

have  to  own  that  here,  at  last,  is  * '  something  different. ' ' 
He  may  be  travel-weary,  but  his  weariness  will  depart 
magically.  He  may  have  been  an  unbeliever  in  the 
possibility  that  there  can  be  anything  worth  while  on 
such  an  outpost,  out  in  the  ocean,  but  he  will  learn 
his  error  very  promptly.  He  may  be  one  of  the 
tiresome  individuals  who  insist  that  it  is  impossible 
to  take  a  vacation;  but  Martha's  Vineyard  will  make 
him  regret  the  years  when  he  was  foolishly  insistent 
on  working  without  a  break. 

What  can  a  man  do  in  Martha's  Vineyard?  He 
can  wander  on  the  beach,  or  stand  on  the  heights  which 
are  like  box  seats  for  the  unexampled  show  of  the 
shipping  that  moves  swiftly  to  and  fro  along  the  marine 
lane  connecting  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  and  Boston ; 
he  can  trudge  back  among  the  smiling  farmlands  or  seek 
the  ponds,  some  salt,  some  fresh;  he  can  go  to  the 
picturesque  towns  like  Vineyard  Haven  and  Edgartown, 
whose  streets  were  laid  out  by  the  seafaring  men  who 
built  them;  he  can  seek  the  heaths  where  the  dancing 
heath  hen  makes  her  last  stand  in  America;  he  can 
fish,  and  he  can  sail,  and  he  can  swim.  There  is  really 
no  limit  to  what  he  can  do — his  trouble  will  be  that 
he  has  not  allowed  himself  time  enough  to  taste  all 
the  pleasures  of  the  miniature  territory  perched 
superbly  across  the  path  of  those  who  skirt  the  lower 
New  England  Coast. 

Nantucket  Island  may  not  be  so  large  as  Martha's 
Vineyard,  but  it  has  even  more  of  the  atmosphere  of 
the  sea.  For  one  thing,  it  is  farther  from  the  main- 
land. Then  it  was  settled  two  hundred  and  seventy 
years  ago  by  Yankee  salts  whose  descendants — some 
of  them  bearing  the  original  names — are  anchored  for 

90 


WHALING    VESSEL    CHARLES   W.   MORGAN,   DOCKED    AT    NANTUCKET, 

MASSACHUSETTS 
After  Twenty-seven  Months'  Cruise 


NORTH  BLUFF,  MARTHA  S  VINEYARD,  MASSACHUSETTS 


>      •:       . 


FROM  LONG  ISLAND  TO  NANTUCKET 

always  on  the  land  that  owes  its  being  to  the  Indian 
giant  Mashopen,  who  formed  it  by  emptying  the  ashes 
of  his  pipe  into  the  sea.  At  least  that  is  the  tale 
the  Indians  used  to  recount.  Then,  as  if  in  childish 
pleasure  at  their  story-telling  genius,  they  go  on  to 
say  that  the  giant,  satisfied  with  his  labors,  used  to 
light  his  pipe  on  the  island  so  much  that  the  smoke 
caused  the  fogs  to  cling  to  the  shores. 

Some  of  those  early  settlers  called  the  island 
Nantukes.  Others  wrote  the  name  Nantucquet  Isle. 
But  usually,  whatever  they  called  it,  they  clung  to  it 
when  they  lived  there,  and  longed  for  it  when  they 
were  absent.  Those  who  have  never  been  there  may 
easily  wonder  why  they  were  so  partial  to  the  long 
strip  of  sand  with  its.  bays  and  headlands,  its  ponds 
and  harbors,  its  beaches  and  gently  curving  shore. 
But  let  those  who  are  unwilling  to  become  slaves  of 
the  island,  keep  safely  away  from  it.  If  they  climb 
the  streets  of  Nantucket,  the  old  whaling  town;  walk 
out  two  miles  to  the  tablet  that  marks  the  birthplace 
of  Abiah  Folger,  mother  of  Benjamin  Franklin ;  stroll 
on  to  Siasconset;  remain  there  long  enough  to  call  it 
'Sconset;  then  pass  on  to  Sankaty  Head,  eighty-five 
feet  above  the  sea,,  and  look  toward  far-away  Europe, 
it  is  almost  a  certainty  that  they  will  be  Nantucket 
converts  for  life. 

Visitors  remark  the  absence  of  deciduous  trees  in 
almost  all  parts  of  the  "mutton  chop"  island.  The 
winds  blow  constantly  with  great  velocity,  so  that 
such  trees  have  little  chance  to  grow ;  they  need  water, 
and  the  wind  robs  the  leaves  of  moisture  more  rapidly 
than  the  roots  can  supply  it,  especially  when  they  grow 
in  a  porous  soil.  But  there  is  a  wealth  of  other 

91 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

vegetation.  There  are  evergreen  trees,  and  there  are 
cranberry  bogs.  There  are  heathlands  among  the 
rolling  hills,  which  one  famous  botanist  has  likened  to 
the  Eoman  Campagna.  Here  and  there  are  clumps 
of  the  huckleberry  or  the  bearberry,  whose  woody 
stems,  covered  with  small  evergreen,  leathery  leaves, 
make  a  springy  surface  for  the  pedestrian,  like  a 
Turkish  rug.  Think  of  walking  on  such  a  carpet,  acres 
and  acres  of  it  I 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

THE  Connecticut  Valley  is  a  dream  come  true. 
There  romance  and  reality  join  hands  in  glori- 
ous partnership,  while  beauty  and  utility  unite 
in  satisfying  measure.     For  three  hundred  and  sixty 
miles — from  the  Canadian  border  to  Long  Island  Sound 
—it  is  generous  with  gifts  of  beauty  for  those  who 
delight  in  endless  variety  of  valley  and  mountain,  of 
water  and  verdure,  of  cloud  and  sunshine. 

Here  was  a  favorite  hunting  ground  for  the  Indian, 
and  a  passage  way  for  the  braves  as  they  went  from 
the  waters  of  the  Sound  toward  the  waters  of  the  St. 
Lawrence.  Then  came  the  Dutch,  who  preferred  their 
own  name,  De  Versche  Riviere  (Fresh-water  River)  to 
the  musical  Quoneh-to-cut  of  the  savages.  Followed 
then  the  courageous  settlers  from  Massachusetts,  who 
made  their  homes  on  the  banks  of  the  lower  river, 
defying  death  at  the  hands  of  the  dispossessed  Indians, 
persisting  in  their  occupation  of  the  chosen  lands  in 
spite  of  barbarous  massacres,  pushing  farther  and  yet 
farther  north  until  quarrels  with  other  settlers  who 
wanted  the  same  lands  threatened  to  be  almost  as 
disastrous  as  had  been  the  long  continued  warfare  with 
the  Indians. 

But  even  these  pioneers  took  time  from  their 
struggles  with  nature  and  with  man  to  revel  in  the 
beauty  about  them.  They  clung  to  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  and  delighted  in  building  homes  in  advanta- 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

geous  locations.  Their  thoughts  were  given  expression 
more  than  one  hundred  years  ago  by  Timothy  Dwight 
in  his  Travels  in  New  England.  He  declared  that  this 
stream  "may  perhaps  with  more  propriety  than  any 
other  in  the  world  be  named  the  Beautiful  River." 
Then,  in  stately  sentences,  he  continued :  * '  The  purity, 
salubrity,  and  sweetness  of  its  waters;  the  frequency 
and  elegance  of  its  meanders,  its  absolute  freedom 
from  all  aquatic  vegetables,  the  uncommon  and 
unusual  beauty  of  its  banks, — here  a  smooth  and  wind- 
ing beach,  there  covered  with  rich  verdure,  now  fringed 
with  bushes,  now  covered  with  lofty  trees,  and  now 
formed  by  the  intruding  hill,  the  rude  bluff,  and  the 
shaggy  mountain, — are  objects  which  no  traveler 
can  thoroughly  describe,  and  no  reader  can  ade- 
quately imagine." 

The  windings  of  the  Beautiful  River  lead  across 
Connecticut,  the  Land  of  Steady  Habits,  through  the 
heart  of  Massachusetts,  between  the  Berkshires  and 
the  luscious  lands  toward  the  east;  then  on  between 
the  Green  Mountains  and  the  White  Mountains,  where 
neither  New  Hampshire  nor  Vermont  has  been  willing 
to  yield  all  claim  to  its  bordering  banks. 

Those  who  would  learn  for  themselves  have  ample 
choice  of  modes  of  travel.  They  can  go  on  the  New 
York  boat  from  the  Sound  up  to  Hartford.  They  may 
prefer  the  good  road  that  keeps  rather  close  to  the 
bank  most  of  the  way  from  the  mouth  far  into  Vermont. 
Or  they  may  choose  the  railroad,  breaking  the  journey 
at  the  end  of  the  first  day  at  Springfield  and  taking 
passage  in  the  morning  for  Barnet,  Vermont,  where 
the  railroad  must  be  abandoned  for  the  road  that 
follows  the  northeasterly  course  of  the  rapidly  narrow- 

94 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

ing  stream  to  the  lakes  where  it  has  its  source,  halfway 
between  the  borders  of  Quebec  and  northern  Maine. 

Difficult  railroad  connections  along  the  lower  river 
should  not  hinder  the  beginning  of  the  journey  at 
Saybrook  where  the  stream  gives  "cool  hand  to  the 
waiting  sea."  This  town  preserves  the  names  of 
Lord  Say  and  Seal  and  Lord  Brook,  two  of  the  English 
company  of  "Lords  and  Gentlemen''  who  came  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Connecticut  in  1635,  having  received  from 
the  Plymouth  Colony  in  England  a  charter  to  territory 
extending  from  Narragansett  Bay  to  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
Later  their  generously  indefinite  rights  were  trans- 
ferred to  George  Fenwick,  colonist  of  1639,  who 
bravely  founded  Saybrook  above  the  fort  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  built  by  the  English  in  1635  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  two  years  earlier  the  Dutch  had  taken 
possession  of  this  spot  in  token  of  their  purpose  to 
control  the  Connecticut.  For  some  years  there  was  a 
pretty  struggle  between  the  rival  claimants  to  the 
Connecticut,  but  eventually  the  Dutch  withdrew. 

For  five  years  Fenwick  held  on  grimly.  Then  he 
transferred  his  troublesome  claim  to  the  English 
colonists  farther  up  the  river.  In  the  meantime  Lady 
Fenwick  died  and  was  buried  at  Saybrook,  where  her 
grave  is  still  pointed  out. 

Old  Saybrook  rejoices  in  the  fact  that  here  was 
the  first  seat  of  Yale  College,  whose  removal  to 
New  Haven  gave  the  romancing  Samuel  Peters,  in  his 
undependable  History  of  Connecticut,  an  opportunity 
to  embellish  a  tale  that  would  have  been  interesting 
without  trimmings.  He  declares  that  "because  the 
people  of  New  Haven  and  Hartford  suspected  that 
Saybrook  was  not  truly  Protestant/'  because  it  had 

95 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

a  passion  for  the  "  leeks  and  onions  of  Egypt,  and 
because  youth  belonging  to  them  in  the  Schola  Illustris 
were  in  great  danger  of  imbibing  its  lukewarmness," 
Hartford  voted  to  remove  the  college  to  Wethersfield, 
while  New  Haven  determined  to  lay  hold  of  the 
institution  for  herself.  Hartford  acted  first;  a  mob 
went  down  the  river  with  teams  and  boats,  seized  "the 
college  apparatus,  library  and  students,  and  carried 
all  to  Wethersfield. " 

Not  to  be  outdone,  a  New  Haven  mob  went  to 
Wethersfield  and  laid  violent  hands  upon  the  institu- 
tion. But  they  were  not  so  successful,  for  on  the  road 
to  the  coast  they  were  overtaken  by  the  mob  from 
Hartford,  which  succeeded  in  taking  back  part  of  the 
library  and  students. 

Thus  it  happened  that  for  a  time  students  gathered 
at  Saybrook,  Wethersfield,  and  New  Haven.  Peace 
was  finally  signed,  and  New  Haven  won  the  college, 
to  the  joy  of  Boston,  so  Peters  says,  because  the  decision 
removed  the  rival  of  Harvard  College  forty  miles 
farther  away! 

In  passing  up  the  river  the  traveler  soon  comes  to 
Selden  Neck,  a  beautiful  island  in  part  controlled  for 
the  people  by  the  Connecticut  State  Park  Commission. 
The  Neck  is  also  a  reminder  of  Saybrook;  it  was 
granted  in  1650  to  John  Cullick  by  the  General  Court 
of  Hartford,  for  his  services  in  connection  with  the 
union  of  the  town  of  Saybrook  with  the  Connecticut 
Colony,  farther  up  the  river. 

The  winding  river  soon  leads  to  Essex,  noted  in  the 
Revolution  for  the  building  of  a  ship  of  war,  and  in 
the  war  of  1812  for  the  destruction  there  of  American 
vessels  by  the  British.  East  Haddam,  too, — where  the 


UP  SELDEN  CREEK,   CONNECTICUT  RIVER 


ON  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

Salmon  River  enters  the  Connecticut,  flowing  between 
leafy  banks, — was  once  a  shipbuilding  point.  But 
perhaps  a  greater  claim  to  fame  is  the  fact  that  there 
Nathan  Hale  taught  school  before  the  Revolution. 

Haddam,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river,  and  a  little 
farther  up  stream,  rejoices  that  it  was  the  birthplace 
of  such  famous  men  as  Stephen  Johnson  Field,  Justice 
of  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  and  of  David 
Brainerd,  Apostle  to  the  Indians.  Justice  Field's 
father  was  once  pastor  in  the  delightful  old  town,  and 
his  memory  is  kept  green  by  the  park  dedicated  to  him. 

Above  Haddam  the  river  narrows  rapidly,  winding 
amid  green  forests  to  Middle  Haddam,  where  it  makes 
the  last  great  bend  before  reaching  away  to  the  north 
by  a  course  that  is  remarkably  direct,  sweeping  by 
little,  wooded  Dart  Island,  a  microscopic  State  Park 
area  that  has  been  preserved  very  nearly  as  it  was 
when  Dutch  and  English  rivals  ruled  the  river. 

The  residents  of  Middle  Haddam  have  the  privilege 
of  resorting  to  a  much  larger  area  administered  by 
the  State  Park  Commission,  Hurd  Park,  with  a  river 
frontage  of  more  than  a  mile,  where  Hurd  Brook  cuts 
a  deep  gorge  on  its  way  to  the  river;  where  forests 
crown  the  heights  above  the  water  or  lead  up  to  emi- 
nences still  greater  which  afford  unusual  views  of  the 
fertile  lands  on  both  sides ;  where  a  dock  reaches  into 
the  river,  the  relic  of  the  Hurds  who  came  to  the  spot 
about  1710. 

After  eight  miles  of  varied  beauty  comes  Middle- 
town.  Then  the  river  leaves  the  path  of  the  glacier 
that  ground  down  through  the  heart  of  the  Connecticut. 
The  glacier's  track,  which  led  on  to  the  site  of  New 
Haven,  has  been  marked  by  Wharton  Brook  Reserva- 

7  97 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

tion,  a  Traveler's  Wayside  Park  close  to  Wallingford, 
within  easy  reach  of  the  great  highway  from  New 
Haven  to  Hartford,  where  arching  elms  and  beeches 
screen  the  inviting  waters  of  a  stream  that  looks  as 
if  it  were  miles  within  a  forest. 

Middletown  on  the  river  has  its  own  near-by  height, 
Great  Hill,  on  whose  western  slope  the  state  has 
another  of  its  well-chosen  reservations.  Within  a 
mile  is  the  highway,  and  not  far  distant,  is  Meshomasick 
Mountain  and  the  Portland  State  Forest,  on©  of 
Connecticut's  brave  attempts  to  save  its  woodland 
heritage.  Close  at  hand  also  is  the  spot  where,  it  is 
said,  John  Winthrop  found  gold. 

Middletown  has  other  rugged  surroundings.  Below 
the  town  the  river  makes  its  way  through  what  is  almost 
a  gorge  between  high  hills.  It  is  not  surprising,  then, 
to  come  on  the  slopes  where  the  little  city  is  built,  and 
to  see  the  wonderful  old  trees  and  the  historic  houses 
of  the  settlement  that  dates  from  1653.  Graduates 
of  Wesleyan  University  look  back  with  delight  on  the 
days  they  spent  amid  the  pleasing  surroundings  of 
the  town  that  once  threatened  the  commercial  suprem- 
acy of  Hartford. 

Between  Middletown  and  Hartford  Wethersfield 
looks  down  from  its  superb  location  above  the  river, 
claiming  the  admiration  of  the  visitor  by  the  church 
among  the  trees,  with  its  tower  after  Christopher 
Wren,  the  old  cemetery  with*  its  engrossing  stones,  and 
the  house  where  Washington  stopped,  in  1781,  making 
plans  with  his  helpers  that  were  carried  out  when 
Cornwallis  surrendered  his  sword  at  Yorktown.  That 
was  long  ago,  but  the  town  was  by  no  means  an  infant 

98 


THE  VALLEY  OP  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

then.  For  Wethersfield  (then  Watertown)  was  one 
of  three  towns  planted  between  1635  and  1638  by 
Puritans  from  Massachusetts,  who  had  been  attracted 
by  the  fertility  of  the  Connecticut  Valley.  Together 
with  Hartford  and  Windsor  the  town  formed  the 
Connecticut  colony,  backed  by  a  written  constitution 
that  was,  according  to  John  Fiske,  "the  true  birth  of 
American  democracy." 

Those  who  are  privileged  to  see  the  graceful  sweep 
of  river  above  Wethersfield,  who  look  on  the  restful 
trees  on  either  bank  that  sheltered  many  houses  occu- 
pied by  descendants  of  those  who  helped  to  shape  the 
early  destinies  of  Connecticut,  can  understand  why  the 
pioneers  selected  this  region  for  the  scene  of  their 
home-building  achievements,  and  why  the  Indians  and 
the  Dutch,  whom  they  sought  to  displace,  were 
reluctant  to  yield  to  them. 

The  Dutch  went  to  the  site  of  Hartford  in  1633, 
ascending  the  river  from  the  Sound.  There  followed, 
overland,  the  little  congregation  from  Newtown  (Cam- 
bridge), Massachusetts,  led  by  their  pastor,  Thomas 
Hooker.  The  settlement  made  on  the  west  bank  of 
the  river  was  known  as  Newtown  until  1637,  when 
it  was  called  Hertford* 

Modern  Hartford  has  not  hidden  by  later  improve- 
ments all  reminders  of  the  past.  The  steamboats  land 
where  the  boats  of  the  pioneers  touched  the  shore, 
and  disembarking  passengers  go  along  many  streets 
whose  courses  were  fixed  nearly  three  hundred  years 
ago.  At  almost  every  turn  they  are  faced  by  landmarks 
telling  of  early  valor  and  industry  that  paved  the  way 
for  more  modern  achievements.  Chief  among  these 

09 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

is  the  marble  shaft  built  where  stood  the  Charter  Oak, 
blown  down  in  1856,  the  hiding-place  of  the  royal 
charter  that  granted  to  the  colony  the  right  to 
choose  its  own  government.  Those  who  stand  before 
this  memorial  think  again  of  that  night  in  1687 
when  Sir  Edmund  Andross,  as  the  king's  agent, 
demanded  the  charter,  only  to  be  foiled  by  the  resource- 
ful men  who  blew  out  the  candles  and  spirited  away  the 
precious  document. 

That  deed  of  manly  defiance  does  not  stand  alone 
in  Hartford's  history.  Worthy  to  be  noted  with  it 
is  the  narrative  of  the  coming  of  Governor  Fletcher 
from  New  York  to  demand  the  control  of  the  militia 
in  the  king's  name.  When  he  insisted  on  reading  the 
proclamation,  he  was  drummed  into  silence  by  command 
of  Wadsworth,  the  chief  officer.  The  drummer  desisted, 
but  the  word  to  him  was  "Drum,  I  say,"  and  to  the 
governor,  "Stop,  sir,  or  I  will  make  the  sun  shine 
through  you  in  an  instant." 

That  narrative  is  given  in  the  words  of  Horace 
Bushnell,  whose  name  is  kept  alive  in  Hartford  by 
Bushnell  Park,  most  frequented  of  the  many  beautiful 
recreation  areas  in  the  capitol  because  it  is  closest  to 
the  heart  of  the  city.  As  thousands  enter  it  daily,  they 
pass  through  the  Memorial  Arch  erected  to  the 
Connecticut  soldiers  and  sailors  who  served  in  the 
Civil  War.  In  the  park,  on  a  height,  is  the  Capitol 
building  which  has  the  distinction  of  being  unlike  the 
shrines  other  states  have  made  for  their  law-makers ; 
it  has  a  beauty  all  its  own. 

Windsor,  famous  as  the  third  of  the  original  towns 
of  the  Connecticut  Valley,  and  the  home  of  one  of  the 
early  Chief  Justices,  Oliver  Ellsworth,  looks  over  the 

100 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

river  to  East  Windsor  Hill,  birthplace  of  Jonathan 
Edwards.  There  John  Oldham  came  in  1633,  during 
his  exploration  of  the  valley  for  the  Plymouth  Colony. 
His  favorable  report  led  to  the  migration  that  began 
the  transformation  of  the  region.  To  him  one  of  the 
chief  attractions  of  the  river,  from  the  point  where 
Windsor  is  located  up  to  the  present  northern  boundary 
of  Connecticut,  was  the  five-mile  section  of  the  Enfield 
Rapids,  where  the  stream  tumbles  along  a  rocky  bed. 
Locks  at  Windsor  and  a  dam  at  Enfield  bound  the 
rapids  and  make  possible  navigation  by  the  Enfield 
Canal  around  a  difficult  bit  of  stream. 

Above  the  dam  the  river  runs  for  a  time  between 
straitened  banks,  but  just  beyond  the  line,  in  Massa- 
chusetts, it  spreads  out  until  it  is  more  than  two 
thousand  feet  wide,  The  descent  is  so  gradual  that 
this  broad  reach  looks  more  like  a  lake  than  a  river. 

Springfield,  not  far  from  this  notable  section  of 
river,  has  the  distinction  of  having  one  of  the  oldest 
bridges  along  the  Connecticut — a  covered  bridge,  built 
in  1816,  whose  massive  timbers  promise  to  last  much 
longer  than  the  spirit  of  progress  will  permit  the 
structure  to  remain.  Already  a  projected  modern 
bridge  threatens  the  destruction  of  the  relic,  which 
is  still  known  as  the  Old  Toll  Bridge,  though  it  has 
been  free  for  more  than  half  a  century. 

Another  landmark  that  may  have  to  yield  the  proud 
position  it  has  long  occupied  in  the  center  of  the  city 
is  the  old  First  Church,  with  its  distinctive  New 
England  tower.  "But  the  loss  will  not  be  so  great, " 
a  resident  said  to  the  author.  "It  was  not  built  until 
1817,  for  it  followed  three  other  structures  that  housed 

101 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  congregation  after  its  organization  in  1637.  ' '  This 
was  the  year  after  the  settlement  of  the  town. 

Yet  it  is  difficult  to  think  of  condemning  Springfield 
for  the  possible  removal  of  the  landmark,  since  this 
seems  an  essential  part  of  the  plan  for  beautifying 
and  enlarging  historic  Court  Square,  from  early  years 
the  center  of  Springfield  life,  noted,  among  other 
reasons,  because  some  thrilling  chapters  of  Shays' 
Rebellion  were  staged  beneath  its  elms. 

The  fatality  that  has  pursued  many  of  the  lordly 
elms  of  Connecticut  has  not  passed  by  the  trees  of  Court 
Square.  Yet  a  number  of  the  largest  still  survive.  One 
of  these  is  more  than  nineteen  feet  in  circumference. 

Overlooking  the  elms  from  the  west  side  of  the 
square  are  the  twin  city  buildings,  two  Corinthian- 
columned  marble  structures,  one  for  the  business  offices, 
the  other  an  auditorium  seating  four  thousand  people. 
Between  these  structures  rises  the  lofty,  graceful 
Campanile.  Visitors  are  invited  to  use  the  elevator 
in  ascending  for  the  view  of  river  and  valley  for  many 
miles.  What  an  end  such  a  vision  is  to  a  tour  of 
some  of  the  beauty  spots  of  Springfield,  especially 
glorious  Forest  Park,  on  the  rolling  ground  above 
the  Connecticut! 

"Just  think  what  this  country  must  have  been 
when  the  Indians  were  here!"  were  the  words  of  the 
author's  companion  on  the  tour  of  the  park.  "They 
knew  how  to  keep  the  country  looking  its  best.  We 
have  been  spoiling  it  ever  since  we  got  it.  The  fish 
and  game  are  all  but  gone,  and  most  of  the  trees,  the 
wonderful  trees  that  were  a  benediction  to  the  whole 
countryside,  have  been  destroyed.  |We  are  trying  to 

102 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

repair  damages  here  in  the  park.  See  what  a  bird 
sanctuary  this  is  coming  to  be  I " 

King  Philip  and  his  men  had  a  vision  of  the 
destruction  of  their  hunting  grounds  when,  in  1675, 
they  went  on  the  war  path  and  ravaged  the  valley  from 
Springfield  to  Northfield.  October  5  was  the  fatal 
day  for  Springfield,  when  fire  destroyed  the  town,  and 
the  inhabitants  fled  in  terror.  At  the  time  it  looked 
as  if  the  settlement  might  be  abandoned,  but  braver 
counsels  prevailed,  the  houses  were  rebuilt,  and  the 
work  of  years  was  all  done  over. 

The  next  best  thing  to  staying  in  Springfield  indefi- 
nitely is  to  leave  the  city  behind  as  slowly  as  possible. 
For  the  accomplishment  of  this  feat  the  railroad  that 
follows  the  river  bank  to  the  north  gives  splendid 
opportunity.  " Better  wait  until  eight  o'clock  and  take 
the  Montreal  Express;  that's  a  fine  train!"  a  genial 
adviser  said.  He  was  right  as  to  its  being  a  fine  train, 
but  he  was  surely  wrong  as  to  its  express  character. 
But  this  is  as  it  should  be.  Why  be  in  a  hurry  when 
visiting  the  Connecticut  Valley? 

A  choice  time  for  the  trip  north  of  Springfield  is 
in  May,  when  the  vegetation  is  reaching  maturity 
there.  Hour  by  hour  the  foliage  becomes  less  dense, 
until  in  upper  Vermont  the  tender  buds  are  just  burst- 
ing on  the  trees,  the  undergrowth  is  getting  a  good 
start,  and  the  birds  are  singing  gleefully  as  if  for  joy 
of  what  is  coming  soon.  There  is  nothing  like  this 
reversal  of  nature 's  spring  program  to  lead  to  hearty 
appreciation  of  the  wonder  of  the  annual  transforma- 
tion from  snow  and  ice  to  balmy  air  and  velvety  verdure. 

Falls  and  rapids  and  dams  add  to  the  variety  of 

103 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  Connecticut  north  of  Springfield.  Manufactories 
innumerable  have  taken  advantage  of  the  water  power 
afforded,  notably  at  Holyoke,  where  Hadley  Falls 
disturb  the  river.  The  present  dam  is  the  third 
constructed  there,  the  first  having  been  built  in  1848. 

Holyoke  is  dominated  by  the  hills  that  rise  far 
above  the  river,  affording  wonderful  views  of  the  valley 
at  its  best,  and  of  the  successive  terraces  by  which  the 
land  rises  from  the  water  to  the  heights.  Geologists 
tell  how  these  terraces  have  been  the  age-long  product 
of  the  river,  scouring  a  path  through  the  debris  left 
behind  by  the  stream  that  flowed  from  the  receding 
front  of  the  glacier  to  which  this  valley  owes  a  tre- 
mendous debt. 

The  founder  of  Mount  Holyoke  College  at  South 
Hadley  chose  wisely  when  she  decided  to  build  in  the 
heart  of  this  region  of  terraced  hillsides,  backed  by 
rugged  mountains.  The  college  campus  of  two  hundred 
acres  includes  level  slopes  and  uplands,  as  well  as  such 
a  real  eminence  as  Prospect  Hill,  whose  wooded  heights 
look  down  on  one  of  the  two  lakes  which  the  college 
girls  have  all  to  themselves. 

The  campus  is  historic  ground,  for  here,  in  1836, 
was  built  the  first  woman's  college.  A  few  days  after 
laying  the  corner-stone,  Mary  Lyon,  the  founder,  wrote : 
"I  have  indeed  lived  to  see  the  time  when  a  body  of 
gentlemen  have  ventured  to  lay  the  corner  stone  of 
a  building  which  will  cost  fifteen  thousand  dollars, 
and  will  be  an  institution  for  the  education  of  females. 
Surely  God  hath  remembered  our  state.  This  will  be 
an  era  in  female  edu cation. " 

Mary  Lyon's  college  has  its  mountain,  just  as 
Smith  College,  at  Northampton,  claims  one  as  its 

104 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

peculiar  property.  From  the  river  both  Mount  Holyoke 
and  Mount  Tom  rises  in  majesty.  Both  are  easy  of 
access,  for  cars  run  to  the  summits.  Mount  Holyoke 
affords  a  wide-spreading  panorama  of  the  beautiful 
valley,  and  Mount  Tom  gives  opportunity  to  see  a 
picture  of  dreamland  far  below,  with  the  Intervale 
of  the  Connecticut — the  widening  of  the  valley — as  the 
central  feature, 

On  the  top  of  Mount  Tom  is  a  good  place  to  smile 
at  the  story  of  the  two  Americans  who  once  compared 
notes  when  they  met  on  Mont  Blanc.  One  spoke  of 
the  view:  "Finest  thing  I  have  seen  in  the  world,  with 
one  exception. "  "  And  what  is  that  1 ' '  the  query  came. 
"The  view  from  Mount  Tom,"  said  the  loyal  son 
of  Massachusetts. 

The  members  of  the  Edwards  family  were  lovers 
of  the  wonderful  country  about  Northampton.  Esther, 
the  daughter  who  became  the  mother  of  Aaron  Burr, 
used  to  wander  up  the  river  until  she  came  to  the  sharp 
westward  sweep  that  soon  becomes  an  eastward  sweep, 
as  if  the  stream  repented  of  its  departure  from  the 
straight  path.  Within  the  peninsula  formed  by  this 
ox-bow  lies  Hadley,  some  of  whose  streets  reach  across 
the  peninsula,  having  the  river  for  a  boundary  at  both 
ends.  A  blind  resident  on  one  of  these  streets  has 
told  in  "Hitting  the  Dark  Trail,"  of  the  joy  given  to 
him  by  this  ox-bow : 

"I  have  merely  to  push  my  boat  on  wheels  to  the 
head  of  the  street,  and  then  launch  it,  and  I  am  on  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  rivers  that  ever  flowed  in  a 
background  of  meadow  and  mountains. .  .We  at  once 
push  our  fifteen-foot  St.  Lawrence  Eiver  boat,  built  of 
cedar,  and  more  treacherous  than  a  canoe,  to  the  further 

105 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

side  of  the  river,  and  when  about  fifty  feet  from  the 
bank,  turn  her  head  down  stream  and  float. .  .Onward 
we  glide  through  the  wonderful  green  meadows,  under 
the  great  elms  that  fringe  the  bank,  and  the  three 
bridges,  until,  after  two  hours,  we  are  back  at  the  foot 
of  my  street,  only  a  mile  from  where  we  started  out, 
but  having  covered  seven  miles  of  beautiful  river  to 
make  the  distance. " 

Years  ago  there  were  canoe-men  on  the  river  whose 
spirit  was  not  so  innocent  as  that  of  this  citizen  of 
Hadley.  By  river  as  well  as  by  land  they  watched 
jealou'sly  the  movements  of  the  settlers.  Deerfield,  a 
few  miles  north  of  Hadley,  was  a  special  object  of  their 
regard.  Many  times  the  treachery  of  the  savage  was 
experienced  in  these  towns  that  were  long  the  frontier 
of  civilization  on  the  upper  Connecticut.  Finally,  in 
1704,  the  town  was  burned  and  a  company  of  more  than 
one  hundred  was  marched  over  snow  and  ice  to  Canada. 
A  Memorial  Hall  in  the  village  shows  relics  of  the 
Sack  of  Deerfield,  including  the  door  of  the  one  house 
that  successfully  resisted,  and  the  record  of  the  adven- 
tures of  the  captives,  written  by  the  minister  who 
accompanied  them. 

Travelers  by  rail  miss  a  bit  of  the  river  from 
Greenfield  to  Northfield,  for  the  stream  makes  a  right 
angled  turn  to  the  west,  and  the  railroad  is  the  hypoth- 
enuse  of  the  triangle.  But  they  are  well  repaid  for 
the  brief  privation  by  the  stretch  of  rolling  green  fields 
through  which  they  are  taken.  The  country,  with  its 
background  of  swelling,  wooded  slopes  makes  special 
appeal  as  the  train  approaches  Mount  Herman. 

Before  reaching  Northfield,  the  river  is  seen  once 
more,  and  its  charms  seem  to  have  increased  in  the 

106 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

interval  to  such  an  extent  that  the  last  miles  in  Massa- 
chusetts are,  if  possible,  the  best  in  the  fifty-mile  stretch 
across  the  state.  The  knobs  and  ridges  of  East 
Northfield,  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  speak  in  praise 
of  the  founder  of  the  Northfield  Seminary,  the  last  of 
the  eight  or  nine  educational  institutions  of  national 
and  even  world-wide  fame  that  have  been  crowded 
within  forty  miles  along  or  close  to  the  Connecticut. 

For  a  portion  of  the  way  between  Brattleboro, 
Vermont,  and  Northfield,  the  river  widens  between  the 
bordering  hills.  This  was  the  country  to  which  Rud- 
yard  Kipling  came  for  a  season,  rejoicing  in  its  waters 
and  its  woodlands.  At  Brattleboro  he  invited  his 
friends  to  his  country  place,  "The  Naulahka,"  and 
prepared  some  of  his  matchless  books,  notably  "Cap- 
tains Courageous. "  Beetling  cliffs,  rounded  terraces, 
and  shady  nooks  greeted  his  eyes  wherever  he  turned, 
and  some  of  these  must  have  influenced  his  thought. 

The  site  later  occupied  by  Brattleboro  was  marked 
indelibly  in  the  memory  of  the  victims  of  the  Sack 
of  Deerfield,  for  where  West  River  empties  into  the 
Connecticut  they  left  the  land  where  they  had  made 
a  toilsome  journey  and  took  to  the  frozen  river  on 
snowshoes  and  in  dog  sledges  which  the  Indians  had 
left  at  this  point  on  their  way  south. 

In  later  years  peace-loving  Indians  sought  Fort 
Dummer,  founded  in  1725  where  later  William  Brattle 
laid  out  the  town  that  was  to  be  a  center  of  conflict 
in  the  contest  between  New  Hampshire  and  New  York 
to  possess  the  territory  on  the  west  side  of  the 
river.  There  Governor  Banning  Wentworth  of  New 
Hampshire  had  made  his  grants,  claiming  as  that 

107 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

state's  western  boundary  a  line  twenty  miles  east  of 
the  Hudson  River. 

Bennington,  some  distance  over  the  hills  to  the  west 
of  Brattleboro,  wasi  another  storm  center.  Though 
named  for  Governor  Wentworth,  who  made  grants  to 
settlers  there,  its  residents  later  wished  to  unit  the 
many  grants  west  of  the  Connecticut,  which  ultimately 
extended  far  up  toward  the  Canada  line.  The  Hanover 
College  party  at  Dartmouth,  on  the  contrary,  schemed 
for  a  New  Connecticut,  whose  capital  was  to  be  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  college,  and  whose  territory  was 
to  be  made  up  of  grants  on  both  sides  of  the  river. 
In  the  meantime  conflicting  court  decisions  and  the 
activity  of  Ethan  Allen's  Green  Mountain  Boys, 
organized  for  the  purpose  of  resisting  attempts  to 
dispossess  the  dwellers  on  the  west  of  the  Connecticut 
by  officers  from  New  York,  added  to  the  excitement  of 
the  Valley,  until  the  Revolution  brought  a  temporary 
cessation  of  hostilities. 

Twenty  miles  above  Brattleboro  gorge  busy  Bellows 
Falls  has  its  seat  beside  another  gorge.  There  a  canal 
with  eight  locks  was  constructed  early  in  the  nineteenth 
century.  This  was  one  of  a  series  of  canals  at  intervals 
between  Holyoke,  Massachusetts,  and  White  River, 
Vermont,  built  to  facilitate  navigation  to  a  point  more 
than  two  hundred  miles  above  Hartford,  Until  the 
railroad  made  water  transportation  unnecessary  the 
Connecticut  was  a  busy  stream,  thanks  to  these  ingeni- 
ous canals.  Ruined  locks  and  half-choked  channels 
speak  eloquently  of  those  picturesque  days. 

After  leaving  Bellows  Falls,  with  its  mysterious- 
looking  covered  bridge,  the  railroad  crosses  into  New 
Hampshire  and  from  the  east  side  follows  the  windings 

108 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

of  the  river  until  it  re-enters  Vermont  below  a  second 
covered  bridge  that  makes  those  who  see  it  eager  to 
stand  within  its  portals  and  look  between  its  cracks 
down  to  towering  Mount  Ascutney. 

Bountifully  endowed  by  nature,  Windsor  has  also 
the  distinction  of  being  the  birthplace  of  Vermont. 
In  1777,  at  the  consitutional  convention  there,  the 
government  was  organized  by  the  towns  west  of  the 
river,  as  well  as  sixteen  towns  east  of  the  river. 
Hanover  and  the  Dartmouth  College  authorities  agreed 
to  the  new  arrangement.  Yet  it  was  five  years  before 
New  Hampshire's  boundaries  were  declared  to  extend 
as  far  as  the  west  bank  of  the  river. 

Dartmouth  College,  from  its  sightly  height  on  the 
east  bank,  looks  off  to  the  hills  and  mountains  of  New 
Hampshire,  and  down  on  the  river  where  students  are 
fond  of  rowing  under  the  pine  grove  that  crowds  close 
to  the  water.  Sometimes  as  they  rest  in  the  dense 
shade  they  talk  of  John  Ledyard,  the  student  who,  in 
1773,  made  a  canoe  from  a  pine  tree  and  descended 
the  Connecticut  to  Hartford,  thus  giving  a  prophecy 
of  the  restless  career  during  which  he  influenced 
Thomas  Jefferson  to  send  Lewis*  and  Clark  to  the 
Northwest  and  made  him  successively  a  partner  of  John 
Paul  Jones  and  a  pioneer  fur  trader  of  the  west. 

This  fascinating  stretch  of  river  seems  to  have 
had  a  fashion  of  developing  pioneers  in  transportation. 
A  few  miles  north,  in  1792-1793,  between  Fairlee,  Ver- 
mont and  Orford,  New  Hampshire,  Samuel  Morey 
tested  a  steamboat  built  by  himself,  which  ran  so 
successfully  against  the  current  that  he  took  it  down 
the  river  for  more  ambitious  trials.  Later  he  con- 
structed another  and  larger  boat,  and  consulted  with 

109 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Kobert  Fulton  and  John  Fitch.  The  model  of  the 
engine  of  "the  first  American  boat  propelled  by 
paddle-wheels ' '  is  preserved  with  great  pride  in  Fairlee, 
whose  people  never  weary  of  talking  of  the  jovial 
farmer-inventor  who  gave  fame  to  their  stretch  of 
river,  flowing  serenely  through  the  alluvial  valley. 

At  Fairlee  the  traveler  rejoices  as  he  looks  over  the 
river  into  New  Hampshire.  In  Orford  the  houses 
cluster  amid  the  trees  about  the  white  spire  of  the 
village  church.  Beyond  rise  the  successive  ridges  of 
rounded  summits.  The  eye  lingers  lovingly  on  a 
sugar-loaf  peak  mounting  in  superb  dignity  above 
irregular  slopes. 

To  many  the  best  of  the  river  is  still  beyond. 
Though  the  railroad  leaves  it,  the  highway  follows  its 
banks  as  it  stretches  away  to  the  northeast,  forming 
the  boundary  that  rapidly  brings  New  Hampshire 
almost  to  a  point,  rounding  more  ox-bow  bends,  crossing 
tributary  streams  innumerable,  leading  past  the  distant 
White  Mountains  and  their  northern  outposts,  and  on 
to  the  first  of  the  series  of  lakes  where  the  stream  has 
its  source,  Connecticut  Late,  more  than  sixteen  hundred 
feet  above  the  sea.  From  this  point  there  is  a  fine 
opportunity  to  scramble  a  few  miles  through  wild, 
wooded  territory  to  Second  and  Third  Lakes,  and 
finally  Fourth  Lake,  the  ultimate  source  of  the  Connec- 
ticut, just  below  the  Canadian  boundary,  and  more 
than  twenty-five  hundred  feet  above  sea  level.  Here- 
abouts was  the  country  so  far  removed  from  civilization 
that  in  1829  the  settlers  organized  themselves  as  ' '  The 
United  Inhabitants  of  the  Indian  Stream  Territory," 
taking  the  name  from  the  western  tributary  of  the 
Connecticut.  This  strangest  of  all  transient  govern- 
no 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  CONNECTICUT  RIVER 

ments  that  from  time  to  time  have  been  set  up  within 
the  boundaries  of  the  United  States  declared  itself 
independent  both  of  this  country  and  of  Great  Britain. 
After  five  years,  however,  the  territory  melted  away. 

But  many  travelers  must  bid  a  regretful  farewell 
to  the  winding-  stream  either  at  Wells  River  or  at  St. 
Johnsbury,  turning  toward  Burlington  and  Lake 
Champlain.  If  their  chosen  route  is  from  St.  Johnsbury, 
they  have  a  heartening  climb  over  the  Green  Mountains, 
past  Joe's  Pond,  up  Walden  Ridge  and  by  Caspian 
Lake.  The  scenery  is  rugged,  and  there  is  often  a  two 
per  cent  grade.  If  the  journey  lakeward  is  began  at 
Wells  River  Junction,  the  back  is  turned  on  the  White 
Mountains,  and  the  attention  is  riveted  by  winding 
Wells  River,  foaming  over  the  rocks  for  a  mile  or 
two  before  it  enters  the  Connecticut.  Farther  on  it 
sometimes  rushes  fiercely,  then  flows  quietly.  But  how 
it  turns  and  twists !  And  how  the  railroad  builders 
must  have  blessed  it  as  they  had  to  make  frequent 
crossings  from  side  to  side!  Yet  probably  their 
thankfulness  exceeded  their  displeasure,  for  the  trouble- 
some stream  opened  a  satisfactory  way  through 
the  mountains. 

Above  the  recalcitrant  river  rise  the  hills,  where 
the  rocks  are  scattered  on  the  sides  as  if  thrown  out 
from  a  great  pepper  box.  Below  are  valleys  where 
the  glacier  was  generous  in  dealing  out  the  supply 
of  bowlders. 

Later  the  road  pushes  its  way  among  the  granite- 
crowned  ridges  of  the  Green  Mountains.  Some,  for  vari- 
ety, have  precipitous  granite  sides  and  green  summits. 

The  descent  toward  Montpelier  is  high  above  the 

111 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Winooski  River,  which  here  is  turbid  enough,  though 
at  Burlington  it  enters  the  lake  very  quietly. 

But  the  passage  of  the  traveler  to  Burlington  is 
not  so  easy.  He  has  yet  to  change  cars  two  or  three 
times.  To  ride  in  four  trains  between  Wells  Eiver  and 
Lake  Champlain — less  than  one  hundred  miles — would 
be  trying,  but  for  the  opportunity  the  waits  afford  to 
hark  back  to  the  pilgrimage  up  the  wonderful  Connec- 
ticut, the  Beautiful  River. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
BOUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 

BUT  think  of  the  time  you  will  lose ! ' '  said  a  hurry- 
ing business  man,  who  goes  daily  from  his  New 
Jersey  home  to  his  office  in  New  York,  to  a  vis- 
itor who  ventured  to  suggest  that  he  preferred  to  cross 
the  Hudson  by  ferry  rather  than  by  one  of  the  marvel- 
ous tunnels  far  down  in  the  rock  under  the  stream. 

Yet  the  visitor  was  glad  to  exchange  a  bit  of  time 
for  twenty  minutes  in  one  of  the  commodious  ferry 
boats  that  ply  like  shuttles  from  shore  to  shore,  weaving 
in  and  out  among  the  barges  from  the  Erie  Canal, 
scows  bound  for  the  outer  harbor,  and  boats  that  carry 
a  dozen  freight  cars  loaded,  perhaps,  with  provisions 
for  the  great  city;  skilfully  avoiding  an  important- 
looking  tug ;  slowing  up  to  permit  a  great  ocean  steamer 
to  pass  on  its  way;  or  whistling  shrill  warning  to  a 
tramp  steamer  whose  staring  red  plates  tell  of  long 
months  of  service  where  wind  and  wave  forget  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  moderation. 

The  busy  river  is  so  crowded  with  attractions  that 
the  eyes  are  tempted  to  stray  from  the  panorama  on 
shore,  where  buildings  tall  and  buildings  yet  more  tall 
form  a  marvelous  sky  line  that  to  most  people  never 
loses  its  novelty.  Miles  long,  from  the  Battery  far 
beyond  Forty-Second  Street,  it  notches  the  eastern 
heavens  with  domes  and  turrets  and  pinnacles  as  well 
as  with  roofs  that  are  frankly,  prosaically  plain.  It 
is  easy  to  pick  out  some  of  the  landmarks,  like  the 

8  113 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Hudson  Terminal,  the  Woolworth  Building,  or  the 
Metropolitan  Building.  But  who  wants  to  separate 
into  its  elements  a  picture  that  would  be  the  despair 
of  an  Arabian  Nights  dreamer  or  a  Monte  Christo 
on  his  travels? 

And  who  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  declare  that  there 
is  any  best  season  to  behold  the  picture  in  all  its 
magnificence?  Is  there  a  time  when  the  vision  of  New 
York  from  a  Hudson  River  ferryboat  is  not  tremen- 
dously impressive?  When  the  sunbeams  turn  into 
jewels  the  million  windows  of  the  busy  hives  of 
industry ;  when  the  dawning  light  of  a  new  day  discloses 
the  ranks  of  masonry  in  ghostly  array;  when  the  air 
is  full  of  swirling  snow  that,  like  a  half-revealing  cur- 
tain, makes  closer  inspection  seem  desirable;  when  the 
mist  forms  a  veil  between  the  observer  and  the  towers 
of  steel ;  when,  at  evening,  the  beacon  lights  begin  to 
glow  from  roof  to  foundation — then  is  the  choice  time  to 
see  the  stately  panorama  that  beckons  the  traveler  on 
his  approach  to  New  York  City  and  lingers  in  his 
memory  when  for  years,  perhaps,  he  has  been  far  from 
the  metropolis. 

The  ferryboat  offers  only  a  beginning  of  the  trip 
that  should  be  taken  by  water,  entirely  around  Manhat- 
tan Island — down  past  tooth-like  piers  that  reach  out 
into  the  river  from  Seventieth  Street  to  the  Battery; 
past  Castle  Garden,  for  many  years  the  landing  place 
for  the  immigrants  from  Europe;  on  through  the 
Narrows  to  Bedloe's  Island  with  its  blinking  Statue  of 
liberty,  and  to  Ellis  Island,  gateway  today  for  the 
hordes  who  seek  the  land  of  liberty ;  back  to  the  East 
River,  where,  on  the  right,  Brooklyn  invites  the  traveler 
to  visit  the  streets  and  parks  of  a  city  as  large  as 

114. 


og 

5. 


ST.    PAUL'S    CHAPEL,    NEW    YORK    CITY 
Erected  1764 


ROUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 

Philadelphia,  though  now  it  has  united  its  destinies 
with  those  of  the  giant  that  reached  out  from  its  lair 
on  Manhattan  and  appropriated  everything  within 
reach,  except  regions  protected  from  its  encroachments 
by  state  lines. 

Just  ahead  looms  the  stately  Brooklyn  Bridge,  the 
original  East  River  suspension  bridge,  which  stretches 
from  shore  to  shore  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet 
above  the  water.  This  bridge  a  great  engineer  has 
called  "one  of  the  most  beautiful  structures  in  the 
world."  The  stately  curve  formed  by  the  slender 
supporting  cables,  the  massive,  majestic  stone  towers, 
the  web  of  steel  between  the  towers,  the  graceful  road- 
way, "springing  from  pier  to  pier  and  sloping  on  each 
side  to  earth, ' '  combine  to  make  an  artistic  dream  that 
is  the  admiration  of  the  beholder  as  it  has  been  the 
despair  of  the  builders  of  later  bridges  across  the  river. 
Manhattan  Bridge,  with  its  impressive  proportions, 
Williamsburg  Bridge,  the  world's  greatest  suspension 
bridge,  and  Queensboro  Bridge,  a  marvel  of  cantilever 
construction,  all  must  bow  to  the  older  structure. 

Queensboro  Bridge,  farthest  north  of  the  four, 
crosses  high  above  Blackwell's  Island,  refuge  of  New 
York's  petty  criminals,  which — to  those  who  can 
see  it  from  the  air — looks  like  the  hull  of  a  great 
ocean  greyhound. 

Beyond  Blackwell's;  Island  is  infamous  Hell  Gate, 
where  treacherous  reefs  and  violent  currents  due  to 
the  conflicting  tides  that  come  from  the  Narrows  and 
from  Long  Island  Sound,  were  the  dread  of  navigators 
until  the  reefs  were  removed  after  gigantic  preparations 
that  involved  the  blasting  of  tunnels,  the  building  of  a 
coffer  dam,  and  the  planting  of  explosives  in  thousands 

115 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  holes  skilfully  prepared  for  their  reception.  Thus 
passage  through  the  channel  was  made  comparatively 
safe,  as  passage  above  the  channel  has  been  made  easy 
by  the  construction  of  the  great  Hell  Gate  Bridge 
used  by  the  through  trains  between  Washington 
and  Boston. 

The  circuit  of  Manhattan  is  completed  by  the 
passage,  west  of  Ward's  Island  and  Randall's  Island, 
into  Harlem  River,  whose  waters  are  crossed  success- 
ively by  the  Viaduct,  nearly  one  mile  long,  High 
Bridge,  which  carries  Croton  Aqueduct  over  the 
Harlem,  and  Washington  Bridge,  which  is  as  high  as 
Brooklyn  Bridge. 

More  than  thirty  miles  of  water  front!  But  when 
the  circuit  of  Manhattan  has  been  completed,  but 
twenty-two  of  the  three  hundred  and  twenty-six  square 
miles  of  Greater  New  York  have  been  circumscribed. 
Yet  these  twenty-two  square  miles  contain  the  most 
historic  and  picturesque  portion  of  the  city. 

Those  who  enter  New  York  by  the  Hudson  and 
Manhattan  tunnels  from  Jersey  City  find  themselves  at 
once  in  the  heart  of  the  busy  metropolis,  only  a  short 
walk  from  Battery  Park,  at  the  southern  end  of  the 
island.  There  Washington  used  to  walk,  and  there 
idlers  and  sightseers  still  stroll  along  the  pavements 
or  lounge  on  the  benches  in  the  shadow  of  the  first  of 
the  city's  skyscrapers. 

Other  haunts  of  Washington  are  near.  At  the 
corner  of  Fulton  Street  venerable  St.  Paul's  Chapel 
bids  defiance  to  the  traffic  of  the  busy  adjacent  streets 
and  looks  up  serenely  at  the  tall  buildings  whose  bulk 
is  a  startlingly  picturesque  background  for  its  steeple. 
The  old  churchyard  with  its  crumbling  stones  and  the 

116 


ROUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 

mellowed  walls  of  the  structure  that  saw  the  pomp  of 
colonial  days  seem  like  a  bit  of  old  London.  Within 
doors  that  look  out  on  the  graves  of  worthies  of  long 
ago  Washington  frequently  passed,  notably  for  his  first 
inauguration,  when  he  sought  the  chapel  to  ask  God's 
blessing  on  the  infant  country  over  whose  destiny  he 
had  been  called  to  preside. 

In  the  days  of  the  first  President  St.  PauPs  was 
surrounded  by  open  spaces,  but  now  the  churchyard — 
an  oasis  of  green  in  a  wilderness  of  brick  and  steel  and 
granite — is  the  refuge  of  women  from  the  tenements, 
of  old  men  who  live  in  the  past,  of  young  people  to 
whom  ten  years  seem  an  age,  while  the  days  of  the 
beginnings  of  the  chapel  are  prehistoric.  On  almost 
any  bright  day  a  woman  may  be  seen  sitting  on  a  flat 
tomb,  eyes  now  bent  on  her  knitting,  again  lifted  to 
her  little  charges  as  they  toddle  along  the  graves.  At 
noon  stenographers,  with  lunch  and  fancy-work,  spend 
a  half  hour  within  the  protecting  shadow  of  the  chapel. 
And  always  there  are  passing  through  the  portico  the 
curious,  the  careless  and  the  patriotic  who  go  to  the 
pew  where  Washington  worshipped  or  stand  in  the 
vestibule  before  the  statue  of  General  Montgomery, 
the  hero  of  Quebec. 

Within  easy  walking  distance  of  St.  PauPs  Chapel 
is  the  steeple  of  historic  Trinity  Church,  which  long 
since  gave  up  the  struggle  with  the  towering  buildings 
of  the  Wall  Street  section.  These  have  risen  where, 
in  1644,  on  " Monday,  being  the  4th  of  April,"  every 
burgher  was  warned  to  repair  with  tools  to  aid  in 
constructing  a  fence  "beginning  at  the  Great  Bouwery 
and  extending  to  EmannuePs  plantation. "  This  fence 
proved  such  a  protection  against  Indians  and  such  a 

117 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

help  in  preventing  cattle  from  straying  that,  in  1653, 
it  was  determined  to  build  on  the  same  site  a  palisade 
for  the  further  protection  of  the  city.  The  palisade 
was  340  feet  long,  and  its  cost  was  $1300. 

The  palisade  of  1653  gave  the  name  to  Wall  Street, 
even  as  a  sharp  practitioner  of  the  street  of  those  days 
has  found  some  successors  who  bring  discredit  to  a 
district  which  others  have  endeavored  to  keep  beyond 
reproach.  The  story  is  told  that  the  street  before  the 
wall  or  palisade,  when  first  projected,  was  to  be  one 
hundred  feet  wide.  The  purchaser  of  a  long  strip  of 
ground  eighty  feet  deep,  adjoining  the  site  of  the  pro- 
posed street,  managed  to  limit  the  width  of  the  new 
thoroughfare  to  thirty-six  feet,  and  the  sixty-four  feet 
thus  stolen  from  the  public  made  his  lots  both  deep 
and  valuable ! 

The  distance  is  short  to  City  Hall  Park,  the  site 
of  the  beautiful  classic  City  Hall,  whose  design  won  a 
prize  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  while  the 
architect  received  six  dollars  a  day  for  his  services! 
The  builders  thought  they  were  making  a  daring  pro- 
phecy of  the  city's  future  when  they  erected  such  a 
mammoth  structure.  They  did  not  dream,  when  they 
made  the  north  wall  of  brownstone,  because  it  would  not 
be  seen,  that  this  wall  would  be  observed  by  as  many  as 
the  south  facade.  They  would  have  been  equally  amazed 
if  they  had  been  told  that  their  venture  a  whole  mile 
away  from  the  Battery,  would  leave  the  building  many 
miles  from  the  heart  of  the  city  of  the  early  years  of 
the  twentieth  century,  or  that  the  structure  that  seemed 
to  be  so  magnificent  would  some  day  have  as  neighbors 
a  twelve-million-dollar  County  Court  House,  a  six- 
million-dollar  Hall  of  Records,  and  a  fifteen-million- 

118 


ROUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 

dollar  Municipal  Building,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
towering  Woolworth  Building,  fifty-five  stories  high. 

4  'Take  the  subway  if  you  wish  to  go  to  Forty-Second 
Street, "  a  well-meaning  passenger  said  to  a  visitor 
who  was  bound  north  from  City  Hall  Square.  He 
could  not  understand  why  any  thinking  man  should 
wish  to  take  half  an  hour  to  ride  through  the  congested 
streets  when  he  could  take  the  subway  and  be  at  his 
destination  before  he  had  a  good  chance  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  transition  from  the  hubbub  of 
the  upper  world  with  its  ever  changing  pictures 
to  the  bright  lights  and  the  utter  absence  of  color 
of  the  dungeon., 

The  subway  is  a  good  thing — when  it  is  necessary 
to  take  it.  But  the  Broadway  car  plows  its  way  through 
scenes  varied  and  appealing.  It  passes  within  reach 
of  the  "Washington  Arch,  whose  classic  columns  rise 
between  picturesque  Greenwich  Village  on  the  west, 
and  the  streets  that  lead  to  the  teeming  East  Side 
tenement  district.  It  passes  Union  Square,  with  its 
statues  of  Washington  and  Lafayette  and  Lincoln,  as 
well  as  Madison  Square,  where  statues  of  famous  men 
are  neighbors  of  idlers  who  loll  on  the  benches  while 
the  clock  in  Metropolitan  Tower  chimes  many  quarter 
hours.  It  crosses  the  path  of  the  noonday  throng  of 
garment-workers  who  crowd  Fifth  Avenue  for  some 
distance  north  of  Nineteenth  Street,  and  so  help  to 
bring  down  the  rents  of  the  buildings  that  abut  on 
their  chosen  line  of  march ;  it  passes  the  Flatiron  Build- 
ing, which  to  many  is  the  typical  office  building  of  the 
metropolis;  it  gives  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the  many- 
columned  portico  of  the  great  Pennsylvania  Station, 
before  which  a  noted  English  writer  stood  in  wonder, 

119 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

while  he  declared  that  in  Europe  the  station  would  be 
worthy  to  be  a  cathedral.  When  that  man  saw  the 
Grand  Central  Terminal,  he  was  speechless :  the  idea 
that  one  city  could  have  two  such  structures  was  to 
him  amazing. 

It  is  not  enough  to  see  the  sights  of  Broadway  by 
daylight;  the  street  should  be  visited  at  night,  when  the 
bright  lights  make  it  the  famous  * l  Great  White  Way. ' ' 
Then  the  theater  district,  on  both  sides  of  Longacre 
Square  from  Forty-Second  to  Fiftieth  Street,  is 
thronged  with  amusement-seekers.  While  they  are  on 
the  way  to  their  chosen  places  of  recreation,  motor 
buses  on  the  side  streets  are  taking  toll  from  those  who 
would  go  to  Coney  Island.  And  when,;  near  midnight, 
the  theater-goers  are  on  the  street  once  more,  drivers 
of  other  buses  tell  of  the  charms  of  Chinatown,  giving 
veiled  hints  of  something  forbidden.  But  those  who 
go  in  company  of  the  loud-mouthed  guardians  of  the 
Chinatown  bus  soon  learn  that  they  have  set  out  on 
a  very  circumspect  tour,  after  all. 

The  most  democratic  motor  bus  of  all  threads  Fifth 
Avenue.  Let  no  one  who  has  not  looked  down  from  a 
seat  on  deck,  as  he  has  ridden  from  Forty-Second  Street 
to  Washington  Heights,  think  that  he  has  seen  Man- 
hattan. For  he  will  pass  the  Public  Library,  with  its 
broad,  hospitable  entrance;  he  will  get  a  glimpse  of 
Central  Park ;  he  will  pass  over  the  famous  Kiverside 
Drive,  one  of  the  most  famous  of  the  world's  boule- 
vards, with  spacious  apartment  houses  and  comfortable 
homes  on  the  east,  while  on  the  west,  far  below,  the 
Hudson  moves  onward  to  the  sea.  The  roadway  twists 
and  turns,  passing  close  to  the  slowly  growing  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  John  the  Divine,  begun  in  1892,  to  be 

120 


ROUND  ABOUT  NEW  YORK  CITY 

completed  after  many  more  decades ;  the  new  Columbia 
University;  the  tomb  of  Grant,  where  all  Americans 
delight  to  go,  even  if  they  do  differ  greatly  as  to  the 
architectural  pretensions  of  the  structure ;  and,  finally, 
the  Morris-Jumel  Mansion,  built  by  Eobert  Morris  in 
1766,  where  Washington  was  a  guest  in  1776. 

But  not  even  yet  is  the  limit  of  Manhattan  reached. 
At  the  extreme  end  of  the  island  Van  Cortlandt  Park 
with  its  eleven  hundred  acres  invites  the  stranger  to 
wander  along  its  picturesque  roadways  until  he  comes 
to  the  Van  Cortlandt  Mansion,  built  in  1748  by 
Frederick  Van  Cortlandt.  Here,  in  1783,  Washington 
was  entertained. 

And  beyond  the  Park  and  across  the  Harlem  River, 
is  the  Bronx,  a  section  of  Greater  New  York  that  is 
as  large  as  Detroit. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

IN  1877  a  lad  of  fifteen  began  work  as  an  office  boy 
in  lower  New  York  City.  While  he  himself  had 
many  opportunities  to  go  here  and  there  for  recre- 
ation, his  heart  was  touched  as  he  saw  the  boys  and 
girls  of  the  tenements  whose  playground  was  the  street, 
whose  sky  was  clouded  by  smoke  and  fog,  whose  outlook 
on  life  was  as  hopeless  as  their  surroundings.  Even 
then  he  determined  that  some  day  he  would  do  his  best 
to  change  these  trying  conditions. 

Years  passed.  The  office  boy,  whose  name  was 
George  W.  Perkins,  became  a  busy  man,  a  leader  in 
politics,  in  business,  in  civic  affairs.  Then,  one  day  in 
1900,  sounded  a  clarion  call  to  unpaid  service  of  a  sort 
that  many  men  would  have  declined.  It  came  by  the 
prosaic  long  distance  telephone.  "Theodore  Roosevelt 
speaking,"  was  the  introduction.  The  Governor  of 
New  York  then  said  to  him,  "I  am  appointing  a  com- 
mission to  save  the  Palisades,  and  have  named  you 
as  president. ' '  To  the  reply  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  think  over  the  matter,  in  view  of  many  engagements, 
Governor  Roosevelt  made  decisive  answer,  "I  did  not 
call  you  up  to  ask  you  whether  you  would  accept  the 
appointment;  I  called  you  up  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
the  president  of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Palisades 
Interstate  Park. " 

It  was  enough.  Mr.  Perkins  saw  his  opportunity. 
Now  he  could  do  something  for  the  poor  of  New  York 

188 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

City;  incidentally,  also,  for  those  who  could  travel 
where  they  would  in  search  of  the  picturesque.  He 
knew  the  Palisades.  He  had  seen  them  from  the  river ; 
he  had  driven  along  the  heights;  he  had  climbed  the 
innumerable  trails  that  lead  up  from  the  water  front  to 
the  cliffs  from  three  hundred  to  five  hundred  feet 
high.  The  knowledge  gained  during  these  jaunts,  and 
the  vision  of  opportunity  set  before  him  by  Koosevelt 
led  him  to  write : 

"Who  has  not  stood  in  awe  at  the  wonderful  lava- 
rock  Palisades  extending  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Hudson  Eiver  from  opposite  One  Hundred  and  Thirti- 
eth Street,  New  York,  to  a  point  opposite  Hastings? 
The  old  Dutch  voyagers  called  the  Palisades  near  Hook 
Mountain  'Verdrietegh  Hook,'  meaning  *  Grievous 
Point. '  It  was  well  named,  for  it  has  been  for  many 
years  a  grievous  point  whether  the  trap  rock  quarrying 
interests  should  chip  this  formation  to  sell  it  by  the 
yard,  or  whether  the  Palisades  should  be  preserved  as 
a  great  park.  This  'point*  brought  into  existence  the 
Commissioners  of  the  Palisades  Interstate  Park, 
appointed  by  the  Governors  of  New  York  and  New 
Jersey,  who  were  intrusted  with  the  purchase,  location 
and  administration  of  what  is  now  a  twelve-mile  park- 
way. The  crushed  stone  chipped  from  these  famous 
headlands  was  used  considerably  in  the  building  of  the 
tenements  where,  deprived  of  the  freedom  of  outdoors, 
the  people  were  in  special  need  of  a  breathing  space  to 
lift  their  crushed  souls  from  the  shattering  influence 
of  the  throbbing  city  to  the  exalted  contact  of  the 
out-of  -doors. " 

Enthusiastically  the  members  of  the  two  commis- 
sions set  to  work  to  put  the  sheltering  arms  of  the 

123 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

state  about  the  region  of  unparalleled  grandeur  and 
beauty.  The  beginning  of  the  work  of  conservation  was 
characteristic.  Instead  of  spending  in  investigations 
the  initial  appropriation  made,  the  entire  sum  was 
paid  to  the  owner  for  an  option  on  a  large  quarry 
which  was  rapidly  wrecking  one  of  the  towering  cliffs. 
J.  Pierpont  Morgan  supplied  the  funds  to  complete  the 
purchase.  An  appeal  was  made  for  further  appro- 
priations to  purchase  a  twelve-mile  strip  along  the 
Hudson's  shore  from  near  Fort  Lee  to  a  point  opposite 
Yonkers.  The  larger  part  of  this  section  is  in  New 
Jersey,  but  the  northern  portion  is  in  New  York. 

The  area  thus  secured  for  the  people  has  been 
developed,  not  by  attempts  to  improve  on  nature,  but 
by  the  construction  of  drives  and  trails'.  There  is  a 
drive  along  the  summit  which  affords  surprising 
glimpses  of  the  river  and  breath-taking  vistas  across 
into  New  York.  A  beginning  has  been  made  of  the 
Henry  Hudson  Drive  on  the  water  front.  Trails  in- 
numerable have  been  constructed  up  and  along  the  cliff, 
disclosing  the  secrets  of  hidden  nooks  and  leaping 
waterfalls  and  giving  opportunities  for  rock-climbing 
such  as  the  uninitiated  would  expect  to  find  only  in  the 
wilds  far  from  the  city. 

To  think  that  these  privileges  are  available  within 
ten  minutes  of  upper  Broadway — for  a  ten-cent  fare 
on  the  ferry! 

That  the  swarming  multitudes  of  New  York  City 
might  have  every  chance  for  wholesome  recreation,  the 
commission  arranged  to  utilize  the  land  on  the  heights 
a,s  well  as  on  the  shore  beneath  the  towering  cliffs. 
Artificial  plateaus  for  picnic  parties  were  constructed 
of  stone  from  the  New  York  subways.  Of  the  waste 

124 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

screenings  from  stone  crushers  a  thousand-foot  bathing 
beach  was  made  at  a  point  opposite  One  Hundred  and 
Fifty-Eighth  Street.  A  bath  house  which  can  be  used 
by  thousands  at  one  time  was  built  from  waste  rock 
and  from  lumber  cut  farther  north  in  the  Hudson  High- 
lands, on  Interstate  Park  land.  Pavilions  were  placed 
on  the  heights,  for  the  use  of  picnickers  and  followers 
of  the  romantic  trails  carved  into  the  cliffs,  "  paths 
which  plunged  into  the  pristine  splendor  of  the  woods 
and  rockland,"  to  quote  Mr.  Perkins.  There  are  boat 
basins  where  row  boats  and  motor  boats  find  shelter, 
one  of  these  being  at  Alpine,  less  than  two  miles  from 
the  beginning  of  the  Park.  Those  who  land  at  this 
point  find  themselves  at  the  foot  of  the  old  wagon  road 
that  makes  perilous  and  picturesque  descent  down  the 
Palisades  from  Closter,  several  miles  in  the  interior, 
to  the  house  of  wood  and  stone  occupied  as  headquarters 
by  Cornwallis  during  the  Revolution,  but  now  used  by 
the  park  police. 

In  fulfilment  of  the  purpose  to  make  this  a  great 
playground  for  the  million,  camps  have  been  built  where 
there  is  abundant  provision  for  comfort  and  health, 
and  camping  sites  are  available  at  a  nominal  rental. 
In  fact,  everything  except  scenery,  and  pleasure,  and 
health  are  nominal  in  the  Palisades  Interstate  Park. 
There  are  no  concessions  for  the  money-maker;  every- 
thing is  for  the  people.  "My  idea  of  a  public  park  is 
to  have  it  do,  on  a  non-commercial  basis,  all  the  finer 
things  which  are  to  be  found  in  other  recreation 
centers,"  one  of  the  park-builders  has  said. 

From  the  beginning  those  who  have  followed  the 
work  of  the  two  state  commissions  have  marveled.  At 
the  time  of  dedication  Governor  Fort  of  New  Jersey 

125 


[SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

asked  if  it  was  possible  that  so  valuable  a  piece  of 
property  was  ever  purchased  at  such  a  reasonable  price. 

Not  long  after  Governor  Fort  gave  expression  to  his 
surprise  at  what  has  been  accomplished,  something 
more  wonderful  still  came  to  pass.  In  1910  the  crowded 
condition  of  New  York's  Sing  Sing  Prison  led  to  the 
purchase  of  land  for  a  prison  camp  and,  ultimately, 
a  penitentiary,  in  the  shadow  of  Bear  Mountain,  on  the 
west  bank  of  the  Hudson,  between  West  Point  and 
Tompkins  Cove.  But  the  thought  that  one  of  the  finest 
locations  in  the  Hudson  Highlands  was  to  be  taken 
from  the  people  for  such  use  led  to  vigorous  protests 
from  the  citizens  of  Highland  Falls,  several  miles  north 
of  the  proposed  site.  Public-spirited  residents  of 
New  York  joined  them  in  the  protest,  insisting  that  it 
would  be  a  crime  to  devote  to  such  use  a  spot  that  looked 
over  the  river  to  Anthony's  Nose,  the  southern  entrance 
to  the  Highlands;  down  the  river  to  lona  Island  and 
Dunderberg  Mountain,  with  Stony  Point  beyond;  and 
up  to  the  more  northerly  heights,  where  Sugar  Loaf 
Hill  dominates  the  horizon. 

The  protest  was  effective.  The  Legislature  turned 
over  the  new  prison  site  to  the  Commission  of  the 
Interstate  Park,  with  the  request  that  they  develop  it 
as  they  had  developed  the  Palisades.  Soon  there  was 
a  celebration  of  the  transfer  of  the  plateau  at  the  base 
of  Bear  Mountain.  During  the  exercises  W.  Averill 
Harriman,  a  member  of  the  Commission,  said  that  it 
was  his  privilege  to  be  the  agent  of  his  mother,  Mrs. 
E.  H.  Harriman,  in  carrying  out  the  dream  of  his  father 
to  give  to  the  people  a  large  portion  of  the  family  Arden 
Estate,  adjoining  the  Bear  Mountain  region.  Ten 

126 


EL  CAPITAN,   NEAR  FOREST  VIEW,   IN  THE  PALISADES 


BEAR  MOUNTAIN  LANDING  ON  THE  HUDSON 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

thousand  acres  of  virgin  forest  and  one  million  dollars 
were  included  in  the  gift. 

Again  Mr.  Perkins  had  a  vision,  and  once  more  he 
imparted  his  enthusiasm  to  his  fellows  on  the  Commis- 
sion. The  one-million-dollar  fund  was  multiplied  by 
five,  through  other  gifts  and  by  means  of  a  state  bond 
issue.  Other  tracts  were  bought,  until  the  total  hold- 
ings of  the  Commission,  in  New  Jersey  and  New  York, 
were  increased  to  more  than  forty  thousand  acres,  the 
larger  part  of  these  being  in  the  Harriman  Park  Area, 
reaching  back  for  seventeen  miles  from  the  Hudson, 
almost  to  Tuxedo  and  the  Banaapo  Hills,  to  the'  hidden 
valley  in  the  wilds  where  the  Erie  Railroad  creeps  in 
on  New  York  City. 

Here  was  a  region  of  rugged  hills  and  dimpling 
valleys,  of  dense  forests  and  tree-clad  mountains,  of 
limpid  lakes  and  leaping,  shaded  brooks  to  which  there 
was  access  only  by  primitive  roads  and  paths^  except 
through  the  Bamapo  Valley.  One  of  the  best-built 
roads  in  the  country — the  "Boad  of  Seven  Lakes " — 
was  taken  by  a  winding  route  far  back  into  the  interior. 
Other  roads  were  added  to  the  system.  Trails  were 
laid  out,  the  natural  beauty  of  lakes  and  streams  was 
enhanced  by  dams,  and  rustic  camps  were  placed  in 
advantageous  locations  far  from  the  Bear  Mountain 
landing.  These  camps  were  built  of  timber  cut  wisely 
in  the  park  and  prepared  in  the  Commission's  own 
sawmills.  They  were  then  rented  to  various  organiza- 
tions which  would  help  carry  out  the  purpose  of  the 
park,  and  for  the  nominal  annual  sum  of  fif ten  per  cent 
of  the  cost  of  building. 

At  Bear  Mountain  an  inn  of  logs  was  built.  It  looks 
like  a  Swiss  chalet,  and  it  has  an  outlook  both  up  and 

127 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

down  the  river  that  a  Swiss  chalet  might  envy.  All 
around  are  the  green  mountains.  The  dining  room 
looks  across  to  Anthony's  Nose,  on  whose  towering 
summit  beacons  were  lit  during  the  Revolution,  that 
these  might  be  seen  from  another  height  above  West 
Point  and  passed  on  to  the  north. 

Bear  Mountain  Inn  is  a  novelty.  There  are  no 
accomodations  for  lodgers,  but  there  is  ample  provision 
for  the  needs  of  the  thousands  who  seek  its  portals 
nearly  every  day  during  the  entire  summer.  It  has  its 
own  ice  plant,  bottling  establishment,  and  bakery;  in 
fact  it  has  everything  that  can  be  thought  of,  and  some 
things  that  would  not  occur  to  anyone  but  a  seasoned 
hotel  man. 

Close  to  the  inn  is  the  dancing  pavilion,  located 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  site  of  the  battle  fought 
by  the  British  for  the  possession  of  Fort  Montgomery, 
whose  earthworks  may  still  be  traced  just  across 
Popolopen  Creek.  Also  near  at  hand  is  Hessian 
Lake,  where  rowboats  are  supplied  free,  yet  in  such 
a  manner  that  the  people  pay  the  expense  of  the  ser- 
vice. The  deposit  of  twenty-five  cents  made  for  the 
use  of  a  boat  is  handed  back  when  the  craft  is  returned 
within  half  an  hour.  Thus  only  those  pay  who  are 
able  to  pay. 

The  same  principle  regulates  other  charges  in  the 
park.  There  i»  automobile  service  to  four  distinct 
zones,  from  ten  miles  to  forty  miles.  For  this  the 
charge  is  small,  yet  it  is  sufficient  to  make  possible 
the  transportation  of  the  poor  from  New  York  City 
to  the  Bear  Mountain  dock,  forty-five  miles,  then  to  the 
chosen  camp  deep  within  the  park,  from  five  to 

128 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

seventeen  miles,  and  finally  back  to  New  York  City, 
for  a  merely  nominal  charge. 

In  like  manner  any  profits  made  from  those  able 
to  pay  more  for  food  were  sufficient  to  make  possible 
the  supply  of  twenty-one  balanced  meals  a  week,  sent 
warm  by  automobile  from  the  inn  to  boys  and  girls  in 
the  camps  at  a  charge  that  seems  ridiculously  small. 
Every  effort  was  made  to  hold  to  a  minimum  any  change 
in  these  figures  made  necessary  by  increasing  cost. 

Transportation  by  the  Hudson  Biver  Day  Line  is 
cheap,  but  it  is  not  cheap  enough  to  suit  the  Commis- 
sioners. So  an  arrangement  was  made  for  a  steamer 
controlled  by  themselves  which  at  first  took  passengers 
from  Jersey  City  to  the  park  and  return  for  fifty  cents ! 

For  the  accommodation  of  the  landing  passengers,  a 
two-hundred-foot  dock  was  built.  Doubters  said  that 
it  would  be  one  hundred  years  before  the  accommoda- 
tion thus  provided  would  be  taxed.  This  prophecy 
seemed  to  be  proven  true  when,  on  the  first  trip  to 
Bear  Mountain  after  the  opening  of  Harriman  Park, 
but  two  people  took  passage.  On  the  first  holiday  only 
sixty-five  people  entered  the  park.  During  the  first 
summer  the  largest  crowd  on  one  day  was  seven 
hundred  people. 

The  faith  of  the  dock  builders  has  been  justified. 
The  fame  of  the  park  has  gruwn  until  more  than  a 
million  and  a  half  visitors  come  to  it  each  year.  Some- 
times one,  two,  or  even  three  heavily  laden  steamers 
may  be  seen  waiting  their  turn  to  land. 

It  is  remarkable  that  not  one-third  of  the  merry- 
makers who  throng  to  the  park  know  what  riches  are 
waiting  for  them.  "It  is  safe  to  say  that  at  least  a 
million  of  those  who  come  here  in  the  course  of  the 

9  129 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

season  have  no  idea  that  there  is  anything  to  the  park 
back  of  the  inn,  the  plateau,  the  lake,  and  Bear 
Mountain,"  said  Captain  Gee,  of  the  Park  Police,  the 
author's  companion  on  a  trip  over  forty  miles  of  the 
reservation's  most  interesting  roads  and  trails. 

The  pride  of  the  guardians  of  the  Highland  recre- 
ation area  is  the  Seven  Lakes  Drive,  which  begins  its 
winding  course  by  skirting  Bear  Mountain,  far  above 
the  river  as  it  reaches  southeast  toward  Peekskill.  A 
turn  discloses  the  bowl-like  Doodletown  Valley,  a  vision 
of  rare  beauty,  between  West  Mountain  on  one  side 
and  Dunderberg  Mountain  and  the  Timp  on  the  other. 
Doodleberg  village  nestles  opposite.  Both  village  and 
valley,  it  is  said,  commemorate  the  march  of  the  British 
troops  through  the  region  on  the  way  from  Stony  Point 
to  Fort  Montgomery.  As  they  passed  through  the 
valley,  in  derision  the  band  played  Yankee  Doodle. 
Hence  the  name  Doodleberg! 

A  part  of  the  modern  drive  was  built  on  the  site  of 
the  primitive  road  traversed  by  the  British  that  day.  On 
the  right,  by  Queensboro  Lake,  a  portion  of  the  old  road 
is  quite  plain,  and  stretches  away  through  the  forest. 

Off  to  the  left  are  the  reminders  of  Queensboro 
Furnace,  where  were  forged  the  great  links  of  the  chain 
stretched  across  the  Hudson  to  Anthony's  Nose,  as 
well  as  from  West  Point  to  Constitution  Island,  in  the 
effort  to  hamper  British  advance  up  the  river. 

Queensboro  Brook,  tumbling  over  the  rocks  or  paus- 
ing in  deep  pools,  tells  of  the  trout  and  the  bass  that 
lurk  within  its  waters.  Better  fishing  ground  is  Cedar 
Lake,  which  has  been  formed  by  damming  a  valley 
and  uniting  two  ponds.  Its  six  hundred  acres  are  varied 
by  several  boggy  floating  islands,  as  well  as  by  others 

130 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

that  are  on  rock  foundations.  Already  the  road  has 
risen  more  than  eleven  hundred  feet  above  the  river 
to  the  watershed  between  the  Hudson  and  the  Bamapo 
Valley.  On  this  height  it  would  be  easy  to  imagine 
that  the  scene  is  in  the  heart  of  Washington  or  Oregon ; 
in  fact,  visitors  from  the  Pacific  Coast  were  heard  to 
remark  at  this  point,  "  At  last  we  have  seen  something 
that  makes  us  think  of  home. ' ' 

Beyond  Cedar  Lake  is  the  Kamehwauke  chain  of 
lakes,  on  whose  long  reaches  provision  is  made  in  six- 
teen camps  for  thousands  of  New  Jersey  and  New  York 
Boy  Scouts.  There  they  can  fish  and  row  to  their 
heart's  content.  In  the  biggest  of  the  lakes  is  a  group 
of  islands  where  the  Sea  Scouts  learn  the  lore  of  the 
sailor  and  gain  experience  that  enables  the  best  of  them 
to  go  back  to  New  York  in  big  sea-going  rowboats, 
camping  at  night  on  the  shore.  Those  who  do  not  go 
in  for  sea  scouting  are  guided  as  they  track  through 
the  forests,  learn  the  use  of  the  compass  in  the  depths 
of  the  woods,  study  wild  life  by  the  aid  of  manuals 
prepared  under  state  authority,  and  gain  knowledge  of 
the  plants  and  the  trees  of  the  wild. 

These  campers  in  the  wilderness  like  to  go  to  Cran- 
berry Hill,  where  the  Southfield  back  road  looks  off 
into  the  Bamapo  Valley,  and  over  to  Tuxedo.  They 
pause  among  the  masses  of  rock  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
above  it,  or  down  below.  They  look  with  delight  at 
the  cascades  that  dash  down  the  mountain  side,  like 
that  of  Carr  Pond  Creek,  (outlet  of  Lake  Stahahe), 
which  they  can  see  so  plainly  from  the  highway  bridge. 
With  laughing  music  the  waters  toss  from  rock  to  rock, 
beneath  the  bending  hemlocks  and  birches,  by  the  side 

131 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  ferns  of  half  a  dozen  varieties  that  grow,  it  may  be 
within  a  square  yard. 

On  the  edge  of  the  Ramapo  Valley  is  the  enclosure 
for  native  deer  and  for  elk  from  Yellowstone  Park, 
an  enclosure  so  large  that  the  animals  can  hardly  feel 
that  they  are  imprisoned. 

Then  comes  the  leafy  drive  through  the  Harriman 
Estate,  and  down  to  Greenwood  Furnace,  at  the  foot 
of  Rainapo  Mountain — another  relic  of  Revolutionary 
days.  Farther  along  are  Echo  Lake,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  bodies  of  water  in  the  park,  surrounded  by 
spruce-covered  heights,  and  Arden  Valley  Falls, 
remarkable  for  the  precipitous  descent  of  a  large 
volume  of  water. 

Summit  Lake  Camp  for  members  of  the  Young 
Women's  Christian  Association,  by  isolated  Summit 
Lake,  nine  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  may  be  ap- 
proached by  an  automobile  road  from  Central  Valley, 
New  York,  or  by  the  Erie  railroad.  Other  camps  for 
young  women  are  on  the  Seven  Lakes,  which  have  been 
made  accessible  by  the  road  over  Long  Mountain. 
This  new  road,  a  short  cut  back  to  the  highway  that 
leads  along  the  Doodletown  Valley  and  back  to  Bear 
Mountain,  affords  one  of  the  most  striking  prospects  in 
the  park,  toward  Quannacut,  the  Rainbow  Camp  for 
schoolgirls,  then  over  the  valley  to  Little  Rock  Moun- 
tain beyond. 

Once,  when  Mr.  Perkins  was  asked  if  it  had  paid  to 
devote  the  efforts  of  so  many  years  to  developing  this 
Paradise  for  the  People,  he  replied,  with  deep  feeling: 

"If  you  could  only  see  the  sparkle  in  the  sad  eyes  of 
the  orphan,  or  the  smile  that  plays  around  the  drooped 
mouth  of  some  little  child  who  has  been  deprived  of 

132 


THE  HUDSON  HIGHLANDS  PARADISE 

the  normal  use  of  his  limbs ;  if  you  could  see  the  warmth 
which  comes  into  the  heart  of  the  little  child  who  for 
the  first  time  disports  in  those  heavenly  fields  or  feel 
the  stir  of  imagination  and  exaltation  which  comes  to 
the  tired  working  girl  as  she  sits  restfully  beneath  a 
tree  enjoying  her  respite  from  dear  and  deadly  mo- 
notony of  the  ship !  Your  State  is  safer  in  the  hands  of 
children  whose  health  is  being  protected,  whose  vision 
is  not  distorted,  and  who  look  back  at  what  was  done  for 
them  under  the  auspices  of  the  State  with  satisfaction 
and  appreciation. " 


CHAPTER  XV 
IN  RIP  VAN  WINKLE'S  CATSKILLS 

DO  you  suppose  we  could  make  a  circuit  of  the 
Catskill  Mountains  in  a  day!''  was  the  query 
of  the  guide  of  an  automobile  party  who 
seemed  to  think  that  the  success  of  the  expedition 
depended  on  covering  ground  in  as  short  a  time 
as  possible. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  could,"  was  the  pitying  reply. 
'  '  The  roads  are  rather  well  arranged  for  your  purpose, 
and  most  of  them  are  good.  Yet  I  doubt  if  you  could 
gain  the  consent  of  your  party  to  carry  out  your  plan ; 
you  would  be  committing  a  crime  against  Nature. " 

The  Catskills  are  compact;  "they  are  a  miniature, 
pocket  edition  of  the  best  American  mountains,  set 
down  at  the  doorway  of  the  country's  greatest  city, 
within  easy  reach  of  more  people  than  any  other  out- 
standing feature  of  the  country's  scenery.  But  both 
compactness  and  ease  of  access  are  arguments  for 
leisurely  appreciation  rather  than  hasty  sight-seeing. 

The  front  door  of  the  Catskills — the  Hudson  River 
— provides  appetizing  first  glimpses  of  the  mountains 
for  twenty-five  miles  south  of  Athens.  Back  beyond 
the  smiling  valley  that  borders  the  river  rise  successive 
green  ridges.  In  places  the  nearest  ridge  lifts  leisurely 
in  easy  terraces.  Looking  from  the  circumscribed  car 
windows  of  a  West  Shore  train,  the  observer  is  apt  to 
think,  "Surely  that  will  be  the  last  terrace."  But 

134 


IN  RIP  VAN  WINKLE'S  CATSKILLS 

others  fallow  in  rapid  succession,  until  the  horizon 
is  bounded  by  a  long  series  of  graceful  contours. 

If  the  traveler  has  time  it  will  be  to  his  advantage 
to  leave  the  train  at  West  Athens,  ride — or  better,  walk 
— the  two  miles  to  Athens,  then  take  the  ferry  across 
the  Hudson.  At  ebb  tide  this  crossing  gives  an  espe- 
cially advantageous  view  of  distant  glory,  for  it  is 
necessary  to  drop  down  stream  before  making  for  the 
landing.  And  every  moment  of  the  little  journey  is  a 
season  of  such  delight  that  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  repeat  the  crossing  many  times. 

From  Hudson  the  eyes  travel  swiftly  across  to 
Kaaterskill,  near  the  border  of  the  Catskill  Park,  the 
reservation  in  which  New  York  State  owns  more  than 
one  hundred  thousand  of  the  nearly  six  hundred  thou- 
sand acres  included  in  this  heart  of  the  Catskills. 
Kaaterskill  is  close  to  the  spot  from  which  Natty  Bumpo 
in  The  Pioneers  said  he  could  see  * '  all  creation. ' ' 

Within  a  short  distance  of  Kaaterskill,  and  less 
than  two  miles  apart,  are  two  of  the  typical  waterfalls 
of  the  Catskills,  Haines  Falls  and  Kaaterskill  Falls, 
plunging  from  precipices  where  trees  crowd  down  close 
to  the  water's  edge. 

An  enticing  railroad  wanders  from  Kaaterskill 
within  call  of  some  of  the  finest  bits  of  the  Catskills 
— mountains  that  reach  on  high  up  to  four  thousand 
feet,  cloves  or  passes  that  divide  the  mountain  ridges 
and  invite  pedestrians  who  like  to  scramble,  creek 
valleys,  like  the  Stony  Clove  Creek  and  Esopus  Creek, 
and,  finally,  the  great  Ashokan  Eeservoir,  the  lake 
which  New  York  City  constructed  for  its  water  supply. 

Incidentally,  the  guide  to  Ashokan  can  present  a 
wonderful  array  of  figures — nearly  thirteen  square 

135 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

miles  of  area,  forty  miles  of  shore  line,  occupying  the 
site  of  seven  villages,  displacing  sixty-four  miles  of 
highways,  and  eleven  miles  of  railroad. 

But  far  more  interesting  is  the  fact  that  from  the 
shore  of  the  lake,  and  from  the  causeway  that  divides 
it  into  two  parts,  may  be  seen  some  of  the  choicest 
prospects  in  the  Catskill  area.  From  west  to  north 
the  panorama  includes  High  Point,  Hanover,  Cornell 
and  Wittenberg,  and  even  a  bit  of  Slide  Mountain, 
whose  4,204  feet  make  it  king  of  the  Catskills. 

The  terminus  of  the  Ulster  and  Delaware  Railroad 
is  Kingston,  which  is  also  the  starting-point  on  one 
of  the  choicest  scenic  highways  in  the  East,  the  historic 
route  through  the  valley  of  the  Rondout  and  the  Never- 
sink,  to  Port  Jervis.  From  the  days  of  the  Dutch 
colonists  to  the  weary  years  when  Washington  guarded 
this  Western  Border,  in  the  attempt  to  frustrate  the 
designs  of  the  British  to  cut  off  New  England  from 
the  South,  this  was  a  path  of  empire. 

A  section  of  the  route  to  the  north  of  beautiful  Mo- 
hawk Lake  and  dreamy  Minnewaska,  was  long  called 
The  Old  Mine  Road,  because  of  an  expedition  con- 
ducted— it  is  surmised  by  some  historian — by  the 
Dutch  West  India  Company,  in  the  belief  that  great 
mineral  wealth  existed  in  the  Minisink  region.  Because 
control  of  the  country  had  passed  from  the  Dutch  to 
the  English,  great  secrecy  was  observed  in  this  adven- 
ture. It  has  been  conjectured  that  the  tunnel  in 
Shawangunk  Mountain  that  has  mystified  visitors  to 
charming  Ellenville  is  a  relic  of  this  search  for  treasure. 
This  tunnel  enters  the  solid  rock  of  the  mountain  for 
a  distance  of  more  than  five  hundred  feet.  It  is  six 
feet  high  and  four  feet  wide,  and  has  two  side  tunnels 

136 


IN  RIP  VAN  WINKLE'S  CATSKILLS 

each  about  fifty  feet  long.  How  the  vast  work  was 
done,  so  far  from  the  source  of  supplies,  and  without 
the  knowledge  of  those  who  would  have  told  of  it  even 
if  they  had  not  endeavored  to  prevent  it,  is  a  puzzle 
that  adds  to  the  pleasure  of  days  spent  in  this  southern 
portion  of  the  Catskill  country. 

To  the  east  of  Ellenville,  and  beyond  Minnewaska, 
is  the  height  above  the  Hudson  chosen  long  ago  by 
John  Burroughs  as  the  site  for  his  retreat,  Slabsides. 
There  he  wrote  his  name  deep  on  the  Catskill  country 
in  which  he  was  born,  and  where  he  spent  most  of  his 
days.  The  old  farmhouse  at  Boxbury,  in  the  Western 
Catskills,  that  sheltered  him  as  a  boy  was  almost 
in  the  shadow  of  Old  Clump  Mountain.  On  the  shoul- 
der of  the  mountain,  or  along  the  banks  of  the  Pepacton, 
eastern  branch  of  the  Delaware,  he  delighted  to  wander. 
And  to  this  vicinity  he  went  back  in  his  old  age,  rebuild- 
ing an  old  farmhouse  half  a  mile  from  his  birthplace, 
and  christening  it  Woodchuck  Lodge. 

The  Lodge  was  chosen  because  of  the  view  across 
the  sloping  meadows,  to  the  wooded  slopes  that  rise 
swiftly  and  gracefully  in  rounded  beauty. 

Above  the  Lodge  the  prospect  is  yet  more  glorious : 
Double  Top  and  Mount  Graham  lift  themselves  above 
the  valley  and  look  away  to  Grand  Gorge  on  Bear  Kill 
and  Mount  Utsayantha,  which  is  remarkable  not  only 
for  the  view  of  the  slopes  from  the  surrounding  valleys, 
but  as  well  for  the  sweeping  vistas,  from  the  summit, 
of  well-tilled  fields  and  densely  wooded  intervales. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

MORE  than  three  hundred  years  ago  the  first 
explorers  ventured  on  the  mysteries  of  East- 
ern New  York's  majestic  series  of  north  and 
south  waterways  and  marvelled  at  their  sublime  beauty. 
In  1609  Hudson  ascended  the  river  that  bears  his  name, 
and  in  the  same  year  Champlain  penetrated  far  toward 
the  source  of  the  Hudson  where  his  wondering  eyes 
beheld  the  shores  and  islands  of  the  lake  that  is  his 
enduring  monument.  They  followed  hordes  of  Indians 
to  whom  the  river  and  the  lakes  had  long  been  the 
favorite  route  from  the  bay  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
they  have  been  followed  through  the  centuries  by  other 
Indians,  by  rival  claimants  to  the  fair  lands  of  the 
red  men,  and  by  pioneers  and  travelers  unnumbered. 

In  the  early  days  the  route  was  a  liability  as  well 
as  an  asset  to  the  hardy  settlers  who  fringed  the  water 
courses ;  access  to  them  was  as  easy  for  their  enemies 
as  for  their  friends.  But  the  liability  almost  disap- 
peared during  the  Revolution  when  the  British  failed 
in  their  efforts  to  divide  the  colonies  by  gaining  pos- 
session of  the  river  and  lakes.  The  attempt  was 
renewed,  in  part,  during  the  War  of  1812,  but  it  was 
even  less  successful  than  before. 

Now  for  more  than  a  century  New  York  State  has 
been  able  to  realize  without  hindrance  on  the  assets. 
The  keen  business  man  has  been  apt  to  define  these 
assets  in  commercial  terms,  but  those  who  prefer  to  talk 

138 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

of  the  scenic  glories  of  the  three-hundred-mile  stretch 
are  becoming  more  numerous  each  year.  Of  the  millions 
who  annually  take  passage  on  steamers  that  follow 
where  Hudson  and  Chainplain  blazed  the  way,  multi- 
tudes for  the  first  time  see  this  ancient  route  of  the 
Indian,  and  go  home  under  the  spell  of  the  valleys 
where  history  and  romance  combine  with  rare  natural 
beauty  to  make  superb  vacation  territory. 

Unfortunately  the  trip  up  the  Hudson  cannot  be 
begun  where  the  channel  cut  by  the  river  really  starts, 
for  geologists  tell  us  that  this  beginning  is  not  at  Man- 
hattan Island,  but  one  hundred  miles  out  at  sea.  A 
prosaic  pamphlet  issued  by  the  State  of  New  York  is 
brightened  by  a  passage  written  by  Dr.  John  M.  Clarke, 
which  tells  of  this  inaccessible  portion  of  the  Hudson's 
course.  Why  should  his  sentences  be  permitted  to  doze 
in  an  official  pamphlet?  Here  they  are: 

"  When  finding  its  way  south'  before  New  York  was 
born,  the  river  turned  prophetically  a  little  toward  the 
east,  as  if  to  greet  the  coming  Verazzano  and  Hudson 
. .  .Thus  it  left  the  coming  metropolis  as  far  inland  as 
Kingston  is  today  and  fell  at  length  over  the  Continen- 
tal ledge  into  the  lap  of  the  sea,  one  hundred  miles 
beyond  its  present  mouth. .  .Into  the  solid  granite  heart 
of  the  high  southern  plateau  it  cut  a  gorge  so  long  and 
deep  that  only  half  its  work  is  visible  to  us.  Here  in 
front  of  us  the  old  rock  bottom  lies  buried  nearly  a 
thousand  feet  beneath  the  water,  and  out  beyond  New 
York  runs  that  buried  canyon  which,  if  above  the  sea 
line  today,  would  be  comparable  among  the  phenomena 
of  our  continent  only  to  the  Canyon  of  the  Colorado." 

Most  of  those  who  approach  the  Hudson  River  are 
as  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  such  a  canyon  beneath 

139 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  waves  as  they  are  of  the  Ambrose  Channel  cut 
during  long  years  through  the  shoals  of  the  Lower  Bay, 
a  channel  so  large  that — it  has  been  estimated —  if  a 
similar  cut  were  made  through  the  heart  of  New  York 
City  there  would  be  a  swath  nearly  as  wide  as  Central 
Park,  stretching  from  one  end  of  Manhattan  Island 
nearly  to  the  other  end,  and  fifteen  feet  deep  I 

For  the  purpose  of  the  navigator  and  the  tourist 
the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  lies  far  beyond  the  buried 
canyon  and  the  Ambrose  Channel,  beyond  Staten  Island, 
whose  possession  was  long  a  question  between  New 
York  and  New  Jersey,  past  Bedloe's  Island,  with  its 
welcoming  Statue  of  Liberty,  and  on  to  what  is 
called  North  Eiver  because  the  Dutch  so  distin- 
guished it  from  the  South  River,  (or  Delaware),  which 
flowed  south  of  the  Dutch  settlements  in  New  Jersey, 
as  the  Hudson  River  flowed  to  the  north  of  them. 

The  palatial  river  steamer  makes  its  stately  way  be- 
tween the  amazing  sky  line  of  New  York  City  and  the 
great  docks  on  the  Jersey  shore.  Then  the  green  of 
Riverside  Drive  and  the  varied  architecture  of  Morning- 
side  Heights  call  the  passenger  to  the  Manhattan  shore. 
But  the  eye  is  lured  from  the  shores  by  the  sight  of  the 
busy  tugs  that  dart  here  and  there,  the  sturdy  ferry- 
boats, the  trim  yachts  anchored  in  the  stream  awaiting 
the  leisure  of  their  owners,  the  warships  with  their 
crews  in  white,  the  fleets  or  barges  from  the  Erie  Canal. 

A  few  miles  to  its  north  the  arm  of  the  bay  called 
Harlem  River,  which  connects  with  East  River,  passes 
off  from  the  Hudson  to  its  task  of  completing  the 
water-circuit  of  Manhattan  Island. 

This  is  the  origin  of  the  Palisades.  For  more  than 
an  hour  they  rise  in  majesty,  claiming  and  holding  the 

140 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

attention  of  passengers  who  rejoice  in  the  prospect 
from  below,  just  as  those  who  move  along  the  heights 
think  with  gratitude  that  the  Architect  of  the  World 
had  an  eye  for  beauty  when  he  did  his  work. 

The  Palisades  are  still  at  their  best  when  the  Hud- 
son begins  the  broad  swelling  which  the  Dutch  called 
the  Tappan  Zee.  It  is  four  miles  across  the  broad 
bosom  of  the  waters  to  Sunnyside,  where  Washington 
Irving  lived,  two  miles  below  Tarry  town,  with  Sleepy 
Hollow  close  by,  and  the  old  Dutch  church  that  dates 
from  1690. 

Close  to  Tarrytown  is  Ossining,  the  beauty  spot 
where  those  outside  of  the  prison  walls  can  look  west 
into  the  country  close  to  beautiful  Rockland  Lake,  or 
north  to  Croton,  a  name  familiar  because  of  the  reser- 
voir back  in  the  mountains  from  which  New  York  long 
drew  its  sole  supply  of  cool,  clear  water. 

It  is  not  enough  to  pass  along  this  stretch  of  river 
by  boat.  The  railroad  on  the  bank  must  then  be  taken. 
Which  bank?  Both  banks !  Jutting  rocks  and  jagged 
shores  threaten  to  interrupt  progress,  but  there  are 
tunnels  galore,  and  there  are  cuts  and  fills  that  make 
possible  the  continued  onward  rush  when  it  looks  as  if 
it  would  be  necessaiy  to  take  the  back  track.  From 
the  train  on  the  east  bank  the  longing  passenger  thinks 
he  must  see  more  closely  what  the  railroad  on  the 
west  bank  has  to  offer.  And  when  he  goes  to  the 
west  bank  he  will  feel  just  as  eager  about  the  east 
bank.  So  take  the  boat  and  also  take  the  trains,  first 
on  one  bank,  then  on  the  other. 

Some  of  the  names  in  this  region  where  the  Dutch 
flourished  so  long  ago  are  as  diverting  as  the  scenery. 
There  is  Peekskill,  for  instance.  Once  John  Peak 

141 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

made  his  home  on  the  creek,  but  he  called  the  creek  a 
kill,  so  the  name  was  easily  fashioned.  Isn't  it  for- 
tunate they  didn't  have  creeks  in  the  Hudson  country 
in  his  day? 

Other  names  are  just  as  exciting,  but  they  are  not 
always  so  easily  accounted  for.  But  why  try  to  account 
for  Dunderberg  and  its  neighbor,  Anthony's  Nose? 
It  is  enough  to  enjoy  the  rugged  uplift  called  Stony 
Point,  where  Mad  Anthony  Wayne  won  fame  in  1779, 
or  the  crowning  glory  of  the  river,  Storm  King,  the 
monarch  that  stoops  to  bathe  his  feet  in  the  waters 
and  lifts  his  head  to  the  blue  sky  that  seems  to  come 
down  to  meet  him. 

But  before  Storm  King's  huge  bulk  is  reached,  miles 
of  the  west  bank  must  be  examined.  Old  Fort  Mont- 
gomery, close  to  Bear  Mountain,  is  on  the  north  bank 
of  Popolopen  Creek.  The  railroad  crosses  it  at  a  lower 
level,  but  the  highway  uses  a  slender  bridge  high  up 
above  the  gorge — five  feet  higher  than  Brooklyn  Bridge. 
Far  below  in  the  quiet  waters  of  the  creek  rides  at 
anchor  the  replica  of  Hudson's  Half  Moon,  the  central 
feature  of  the  Fulton  Celebration  in  1909.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  bridge  an  old  grist  mill  seems  proper 
company  for  the  vessel  of  other  days.  And  just 
beyond,  by  the  railroad's  side,  another  relic  shows 
against  the  green  of  the  trees — the  wire  carrier  that 
brings  down  to  the  dock  by  the  waterside  the  iron  from 
the  Forest  of  Dean  Iron  Mine,  five  miles  back  in  the 
hills.  Since  the  days  of  the  Revolution  the  iron  has 
sought  the  river  for  transportation  to  those  who 
valued  highly  the  ninety-eight-per-cent-pure  ore  from 
the  hills. 

Highland  Falls  are  close  enough  to  West  Point  to 

142 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

make  this  a  favorite  excursion  point  for  the  cadets  at 
the  United  States  Military  Academy.  The  fortunate 
young  men  have  many  such  resorts.  In  other  days 
one  of  these  was  Constitution  Island,  out  in  the  river, 
where  lived  Susan  Warner,  author  of  the  "  Wide,  Wide 
World, ' '  and  her  sister  Anne. 

Constitution  Island  was  the  terminus  of  the  great 
chain  stretched  across  the  river  in  April,  1778,  designed 
to  make  impossible  the  progress  of  the  British  vessels 
up  the  stream.  The  chain  weighed  one  hundred  and 
eighty-six  tons ;  some  of  the  links  weighed  one  hundred 
and  eighty  pounds  each.  Fortunately  a  section  of  this 
chain  has  been  preserved;  it  is  one  of  the  out-of-door 
exhibits  at  the  West  Point  Military  Academy. 

It  seems  as  if  the  Hudson  opposite  Constitution 
Island  was  made  for  defense.  From  the  eastern  bank 
there  is  a  projection  that  reaches  within  fourteen 
hundred  feet  of  the  tongue  of  land  thrust  out  from 
the  mountain  on  the  west.  On  this  tongue  fortifications 
were  erected  in  Revolutionary  days,  where  academic 
buildings  have  succeeded  them. 

The  importance  of  this  strategic  point  was  recog- 
nized both  by  the  British  and  the  Continentals.  For- 
tunately Washington  and  his  men  succeeded,  in  spite 
both  of  manly  effort  and  treachery,  in  holding  the 
region  whose  permanent  capture  might  have  meant 
the  loss  of  the  Revolution. 

The  pointed  plateau  whose  near  neighbors  are  Cro' 
Nest,  Storm  King,  and  Breakneck  Mountain,  was  part 
of  the  grant  made  in  1723  by  the  English  Crown  to 
Charles  Congreve.  There  are  fourteen  hundred  and 
sixty-two  acres  in  the  tract.  The  land  was  still  owned 
privately  during  the  Revolution,  but  in  1780  Congress 

143 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

purchased  it  as  the  site  for  a  permanent  military  fort, 
for  eleven  thousand  and  eighty-five  dollars.  Twenty- 
two  years  later  the  Military  Academy  was  founded. 

Anthony  Trollope  called  West  Point  "the  prettiest 
spot  on  the  Hudson — the  prettiest  spot  on  the  conti- 
nent. "  Then  he  asked  what  right  the  authorities  had 
to  take  "one  of  the  prettiest  spots  which  Nature,  with 
all  her  vagaries,  ever  formed,  and  shut  it  up  from  aill 
the  world  for  purposes  of  war." 

When  the  fortunes  of  West  Point  were  in  the  bal- 
ance, Washington,  from  his  headquarters  at  Newburgh, 
kept  in  constant  communication  with  the  fortifications. 
Only  four  miles  separated  the  Commander  in  Chief 
from  the  Gibraltar  of  the  Hudson,  but  the  road  was 
far  from  easy.  Storm  King  rose  huge  between. 
Thirty  miles  around  the  mountain  his  messenger  had 
to  go.  And  for  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  this  detour 
was  necessary — until  the  State  Highway  Commission 
succeeded  in  building  a  magnificent  road  around  the 
mountain  that  affords  some  of  the  most  inspiring  views 
in  all  the  Hudson  Eiver  region,  far  down  to  the  river, 
off  among  the  mountains,  across  the  valleys.  Don't 
miss  the  ride  around  the  shoulders  of  Storm  King ! 

But  it  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  beauty  of  river 
and  mountains  are  left  behind  with  Storm  King. 
Newburgh  claims  attention  not  only  because  of  its 
scenery,  but  because  there  the  Headquarters,  long 
occupied  by  Washington,  are  preserved  by  the  State 
for  lie  attention  of  the  patriotic.  And  from  Newburgh, 
past  Poughkeepsie — where  is  to  be  seen  the  Clinton 
Mansion,  occupied  by  George  Clinton,  first  governor 
of  the  State — to  Kingston — site  of  the  Senate  House, 
built  in  1676,  meeting  place  of  the  first  State  Senate 

144 


LOOKING  UP  AUSABLE  CHASM,   NEW  YORK 


AIR  VIEW  OF  WEST  POINT,    NEW  YORK 
From  the  South 


ALBANY,   NEW  YORK 

Looking  up  State  Street 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

in  1797 — the  speeding  panorama  of  mountain  and  valley 
on  either  side  of  the  narrowing  stream,  helps  mightily, 
in  the  thought  of  many,  to  make  the  Hudson  supreme 
among  American  rivers. 

Kingston  is  the  southern  gateway  to  the  Catskills, 
whose  summits  rise  one  above  another  off  to  the  west. 
It  is  difficult  to  resist  their  eloquent  plea  to  leave  the 
river  and  investigate  their  mysterious  peaks  and 
valleys,  but  the  river's  call  is  urgent,  as  it  was  to  Henry 
Hudson,  who  took  the  Half  Moon  almost  as  far  as  the 
site  of  Hudson,  the  town  that  looks  out  on  the  reed- 
grown  shallows  that  separate  the  channel  from  the 
west  bank. 

Above  Hudson  to  Albany  the  river  is  quieter  and 
the  surroundings  are  more  sedate.  But  even  here  let 
no  one  imagine  that  the  real  attractions  of  the  Hudson 
have  ceased.  Albany,  from  its  hill  crowned  by  the 
Capitol,  looks  out  on  the  stream  at  a  point  where  the 
tide  usually  runs  two  feet.  And  this  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  the  sea, ! 

Beyond  Albany  the  surroundings  of  the  river  are 
rugged  in  the  extreme.  The  entrance  of  the  Erie  Canal 
at  Troy  is  quiet,  but  the:  entrance  of  the  Mohawk  at 
Cohoes  is  after  the  water  has  been  disturbed  by  a 
plunge  over  a  ledge  of  rocks  that  reach  from  bank  to 
bank.  From  the  east  comes  the  Hoosick  River,  another 
attractive  stream  whose  cataracts  have  been  utilized 
for  driving  the  wheels  of  some  of  the  mills  that  seek 
the  banks  of  these  rivers  in  such  profusion.  And  off 
to  the  northwest  of  the  point  where  the  Hoosick  enters 
the  Hudson  is  famous  Saratoga  Springs,  once  the  most 
noted  watering  place  in  America,  now,  after  years 

10  145 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  comparative  neglect,  on  the  way  to  more  triumphant 
rule  than  ever. 

New  York  State  has  become  proprietor  of  hundreds 
of  acres  of  the  land  on  which  the  springs  and 
wells  are  located,  and  the  development  of  the  new 
Saratoga  has  begun.  As  in  the  days  before  the  Civil 
War,  thousands  of  health-seekers  as  well  as  pleasure 
finders  are  going  to  the  region  where  they  have  only 
to  go  to  the  top  of  Mount  McGregor  to  see  one  of  the 
finest  panoramas  New  York  State  has  to  offer — the 
Hudson  Valley  to  the  east;  the  Adirondack  foothills  to 
the  west;  the  Catskills,  far  to  the  south;  the  Green 
Mountains  to  the  east. 

Down  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  is  Schuylerville, 
where  Burgoyne  surrendered  on  that  day  of  1777  when 
hope  dawned  for  America.  "  Within  the  territory  of 
New  York  there  is  no  more  memorable  spot,"  George 
William.  Curtis  has  said. 

Another  of  the  famous  spots  of  the  upper  Hudson 
is  Fort  Edward,  between  Schuylerville  and  Glens  Falls, 
where  a  fort  was  built  in  1755.  There,  during  the 
expedition  against  Canada,  troops  left  the  river  for  the 
twelve-mile  portage  to  Wood  Creek.  But  the  popular 
fame  of  Fort  Edward  rests  less  in  its  military  history 
than  on  the  tragedy  of  Jane  McCrea,  an  American  girl, 
a  dweller  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  who,  in  an  at- 
tempt to  pass  through  the  English  lines  to  meet  the  man 
to  whom  she  was  engaged,  was  captured  by  two  bands 
of  Indians.  In  a  quarrel  over  who  should  have  the 
honor  of  taking  her  to  her  lover  she  was  slain.  Sho 
lies  buried  in  a  little  cemetery  between  Hudson  Falls 
and  Fort  Edward.  Indignation  at  her  fate  led  to  such 

146 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

an  increase  in  the  American  forces  that  Burgoyne's 
defeat  became  possible  soon  afterward. 

Just  above  Fort  Edward,  at  Glens  Falls,  the  Hud- 
son, turning  at  right  angles  on  itself,  begins  its  long 
southerly  course,  after  making  a  winding  track  from 
its  source  in  the  Adirondacks.  But  the  turn  is  not 
made  without  tumult.  For  some  distance  the  stream 
dashes  over  curiously  shaped  rocks,  foams  in  and  out 
of  caverns,  and  in  various  ways  seems  to  express  its 
disapproval  of  the  necessity  of  changing  its  direction. 
James  Fenimore  Cooper  gave  fame  to  these  vagaries 
of  the  stream  when,  in  writing  "The  Last  of  the 
Mohicans/'  he  described  the  rocks  and  the  tumbling 
waters.  Access  to  the  caverns  of  which  he  wrote  is 
made  easy  by  a  circular  staircase  which  leads  from 
the  handsome  concrete  bridge  across  the  stream. 

Glens  Falls — called  Wing's  Falls  until  they  became 
the  property  of  John  Glen  in  1788 — is  in  historic  ter- 
ritory, for  it  is  at  the  beginning  of  the  old  land  route 
from  the  Hudson  to  Lake  George,  used  by  so  many  of 
the  pioneer  soldiers  in  their  passage  from  Fort  Edward 
to  Fort  William  Henry,  whose  ruins  are  on  the  Lake 
George  Battlefield  Eeservation,  close  to  Lake  George 
village,  at  the  foot  of  the  lake  which  has  been  called 
Lake  Sacrament,  Canideriout  and  Horicon.  Francis 
Parkman,  who  was  fascinated  by  the  loveliness  of  its 
surroundings,  called  it  "the  Como  of  the  Wilderness." 

Fort  William  Henry  was  destroyed  by  Montcalm 
within  two  years  of  its  building  by  General  Johnson, 
who  overcame  the  French  through  listening  to  the  ad- 
vice of  an  Indian  chief ;  the  chief  urged  him  not  to  divide 
his  forces  against  the  enemy.  Overlooking  the  lake 

147 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

there  is  a  monument  crowned  by  the  figures  of  the 
military  leader  and  the  Indian. 

From  the  height  where,  the  monument  stands  there 
is  a  first  rare  glimpse  of  the  lake  set  deep  in  a  maze 
of  crowding  green  mountains.  For  more  than  thirty 
miles  the  waters  stretch  away  to  the  north,  sometimes 
several  miles  wide,  again  narrow  as  a  medium- sized 
river.  Everywhere  green  islands  dot  the  surface  of 
the  water,  here  singly,  there  in  clusters,  but  always 
beguiling.  Among  these  islands  the  steamer  picks  its 
way  daintily,  often  exercising  great  care  lest  the  wash 
injure  the  gems  of  green.  But  the  danger  of  injury 
to  the  islands  has  been  lessened  by  the  building  on 
many  of  them  of  dikes  of  stone.  This  work  has  been 
done  under  the  direction  of  the  New  York  State  Con- 
servation Commission,  which  owns  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  of  them.  Campers  are  welcomed  to 
these  islands. 

The  western  shore  of  the  lake  slopes  rapidly  up  to 
the  mountains  which  lead  back  at  once  into  the  Adiron- 
dack wilderness.  "Do  not  go  back  into  the  forests 
without  a  guide,"  warning  is  giving  persistently  to 
visitors.  But  there  are  sure  to  be  some  unwise  pilgrims 
who  know  better  than  those  acquainted  with  the  region ; 
they  persist  in  wandering  alone  where  they  are  so  sure 
they  can  find  their  way.  Some  of  them  have  been  lost 
for  hours  and  even  days;  others  have  not  come  back 
at  all. 

There  is  danger  on  the  lake  as  well  as  back  from  the 
lake,  but  this  danger  also  may  be  avoided  easily  by 
those  who  listen  to  warning  words.  The  surface  of 
the  water  looks  so  calm  and  smooth,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  that  the  temptation  is  to  go  far  from 

148 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

land  in  a  canoe  or  a  sailboat.  But  sorrow  has  come 
to  many  who  have  yielded  to  this  temptation.  For 
sudden  storm  swoops  down  from  the  mountains,  the 
waves  are  stirred  up  quickly  to  great  heights,  and 
nothing  but  the  staunchest  vessel  can  live  in  the  tumult 
The  author  remembers  going  from  a  near-by  island  to 
Sabbath  Day  Point.  On  the  way  it  was  remarked  how 
smooth  the  water  was,  how  blue  the  sky.  Fifteen 
minutes  after  landing  the  sky  grew  black,  the  wind 
rose,  darkness  shut  out  a  sailboat  half  a  mile  off  shore 
—and  when  the  light  came  again  the  sailboat  was 
bottom  side  up.  In  half  an  hour  the  sky  was  serene 
once  more  and  the  waters  were  returning  to  their  accus- 
tomed placidity. 

The  three  hours  required  for  the  steamer  ride  along 
Lake  George  are  made  memorable  by  passing  the 
Tongue,  the  mountain  promontory  that  extends  far 
into  the  water;  Shelving  Rock;  Black  Mountain,  two 
thousand  feet  high ;  and  Sabbath  Day  Point,  a  pleasing 
projection  where,  in  1776,  General  Abercrombie,  on  his 
way  to  attack  the  French  at  Ticonderoga  with  one 
thousand  boats  and  sixteen  thousand  men,  paused  to 
spend  Sunday. 

Toward  the  head  of  the  lake  the  steamboat  passes 
between  two  great  rocky  precipices,  walls  for  its  nar- 
rowing channel.  The  rock  on  the  right  is  Anthony's 
Slide;  that  on  the  left  is  Rogers'  Rock.  The  story  is 
told  that,  one  day  in  1758,  Major  Rogers,  pursued  by 
Indians,  reached  the  summit  of  the  rock,  far  above  the 
water.  In  the  few  moments  when  he  was  out  of  their 
sight  he  sent  his  pack  sliding  down  the  hundred  feet  of 
perfectly  smooth  rock  to  the  bit  of  beach  by  the  water- 
side. Then  he  reversed  his  snowshoes  and  retraced 

149 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

his  steps.  The  Indian  thought  he  had  gone  to  his 
death,  but  a  little  later  he  was  able  to  recover  his  pack 
from  the  beach  and  to  hurry  away  to  safety. 

During  the  four-mile  interval  between  Lake  George 
and  Lake  Champlain  the  water  falls  two  hundred  and 
thirty  feet.  The  route  is  now  rugged,  now  quiet,  but 
always  beautiful. 

Lake  George  really  overlaps  Lake  Champlain  for  a 
distance  of  twenty  miles,  but  the  lower  reaches  of  the 
latter  lake  are  so  narrow,  and  the  upper  reaches  are 
so  rarely  beautiful,  that  the  miles  below  Fort  Ticonde- 
roga  may  be  disregarded  by  the  pilgrim  who  would 
follow  in  the  path  of  the  Indian  and  the  pioneer. 

Samuel  de  Champlain  was  the  first  white  man  to 
come  to  the  site  of  Fort  Ticonderoga,  which  is  not 
far  from  the  village  of  the  same  name.  The  Iroquois 
Indians,  with  whom  he  engaged  on  July  1,  1609,  close 
to  the  site  of  the  fort,  called  the  spot  Cheonderoga,  or 
Sounding  Waters ;  probably  this  name  was  due  to  the 
noise  of  the  Lower  Falls,  by  which  the  waters  from 
Lake  George  make  the  final  plunge  to  the  level  of 
Lake  Champlain. 

Not  until  1755  did  the  French  decide  to  fortify  the 
plateau  on  the  point  that  rises  about  one  hundred  feet 
above  the  lake  and  looks  across  the  water  to  the  low- 
lying  shore  beyond.  The  name  they  gave  this  strong- 
hold, Fort  Carillon,  was  changed  to  Ticonderoga  in 
1759,  when  the  British  troops  occupied  it.  The  flag 
of  Great  Britain  was  flung  to  the  breeze  above  the  walls 
until  1775,  when  Ethan  Allen  and  his  Green  Mountain 
Boys  captured  the  fort  by  a  daring  exploit  concerning 
which  truth  and  fiction  have  been  busy  ever  since. 

150 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

During  the  next  few  years  the  two  flags  alternated  in 
an  interesting  manner. 

The  days  of  picturesque  ruin  ended  in  1909  when  the 
patriotic  owner  of  the  land  began  the  restoration  of 
a  portion  of  the  fort  in  season  for  the  Tercentenary 
Celebration  of  the  visit  of  Champlain. 

From  Ticonderoga  northward  every  mile  of  the 
shore  is  historic.  Crown  Point  is  near,  and  so  is  the 
site  of  Fort  St.  Frederic,  built  by  the  French  in  1731. 
Above  these  landmarks  the  lake  increases  both  in 
width  and  in  wild  beauty.  The  mountains  come  closer, 
crowding  the  water  into  narrow  passages,  scenes  of 
many  conflicts  between  the  savages  with  their  French 
Allies  and  the  English  and  Americans.  Split  Rock 
Mountain,  surmounted  by  Split  Rock  Light,  is  one  of 
the  finest  spots  on  the  lake  to  look  off  to  the  west  to 
the  Adirondacks,  or  far  away  to  the  east  where  the 
Green  Mountains  lift  their  peaks.  Then  the  lake  be- 
comes generously  broad  as  if  to  make  as  delightful  as 
possible  the  vision  from  the  heights  of  Burlington, 
There  are  partisans  who  say  there  is  not  on  the 
continent  a  finer  view  than  that  from  the  campus  of 
the  University  of  Vermont. 

And  Burlington  people  find  it  an  easy  matter  to 
follow  where  that  view  leads  them.  An  accommodating 
steamboat  crosses  the  lake  to  Port  Kent.  Then  an 
electric  line  provides  passage  to  Ausable  Chasm,  a 
marvel  in  the  rocks  to  which  Baedeker  in  his  guidebook 
has  given  two  stars,  an  honor  reserved  by  him  for 
less  than  a  dozen  spots  in  the  entire  country. 

Ausable  Chasm  is  an  unexpected  development  in  a 
comparatively  p»lacid  stream.  There  is  nothing  es- 
pecially remarkable  about  the  Ausable  until  it  drops 

Hi 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

headlong  over  a  seventy  foot  precipice  and  swirls  into 
Buttermilk  Falls,  seventy  feet  high.  Then  the  waters 
find  themselves  far  down  between  great  precipices,  and 
they  champ  and  chafe  and  fret  in  their  confinement 
like  wild  beasts  in  captivity.  In  its  winding  gorge 
falls  and  cascades,  rocks  and  whirlpools  come  too  fast 
for  count.  Picturesque  names  have  been  given  to  many 
of  the  outstanding  points  of  interest,  but  they  are  not 
as  picturesque  as  the  spots  themselves:  for  instance, 
Mystic  Gorge,  the  Devil's  Oven,  Pulpit  Rock,  Jacob's 
Ladder,  the  Smuggler's  Pass,  Table  Eock.  The  names 
can  be  duplicated,  but  not  the  spots  in  the  chasm  of 
which  they  tell.  Perhaps  they  will  satisfy  until  the 
opportunity  has  come  to  walk  above  them,  to  pass  among 
them,  or  to  sit  in  a  boat  while  a  skilful  waterman  shoots 
the  rapids  with  perfect  nonchalance,  while  breathless 
passengers  hold  fast  to  the  boat,  only  in  a  moment  to 
wish  that  they  could  have  the  thrill  all  over  again. 

But  when  the  deceptive  waters  of  the  Ausable  enter 
Champlain  a  short  distance  beyond  the  point  where 
they  make  such  a  tumult,  they  are  as  peaceful  as  the 
bosom  of  the  lake  when  there  is  not  a  breath  of  wind. 

Ten  miles  south  of  the  mouth  of  the  Ausable,  on 
Cumberland  Bay,  a  German  nobleman,  Count  Vreden- 
burg,  located  before  the  Revolution  on  thirty  thousand 
acres  of  land.  His  house  and  sawmill  were  at  Vre- 
denburg  Falls,  on  the  Saranac,  several  miles  from  the 
present  city  of  Plattsburg.  The  Count  disappeared  in 
time  for  Judge  Platt  to  patent  the  land  and  make  a 
settlement  that  was  to  preserve  his  name,  on  one  of 
the  choicest  sites  on  the  lake.  Thirty  years  later,  on 
September  11,  1814,  Captain  Thomas  Macdonough 
made  the  bay  famous  when  his  squadron  defeated  a 

152 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

British  squadron  under  Captain  George  Downie,  and 
so  helped  to  check  the  progress  of  the  thirteen  thousand 
men  who  had  come  thus  far  from  Canada  in  the 
attempt  to  invade  New  York  State. 

The  upper  portion  of  the  lake  on  which  so  many 
attempts  were  made  by  invaders  can  be  seen  best  by 
railroad — a  remarkable  railroad,  extending  from  Bur- 
lington to  Alburgh  directly  across  the  islands  that 
divide  Champlain  into  two  parts.  There  are  thirty- 
seven  miles  of  journey — all  within  Vermont — that  for 
scenic  splendor  send  to  the  rear  the  Lucin  Cut-Off  on 
Great  Salt  Lake  and  even  the  Key  West  Extension  of 
the  Florida  East  Coast  Railroad. 

The  schedule  has  been  arranged  so  that,  in  June, 
the  train  leaves  Burlington  at  an  hour  when  the  mys- 
teries of  the  night  are  slowly  yielding  to  the  glories 
of  the  day.  The  rising  sun  is  reflected  in  the  waters 
as  the  railroad  leaps  from  the  mainland  to  the  south 
end  of  Grand  Isle  (or  South  Hero  Island)  over  a  fill 
more  than  four  miles  long,  constructed  on  a  curve  so 
as  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  sand  bar.  Of  course  the 
engineer  did  not  think  how  the  route  chosen  would 
add  to  the  beauty  of  the  ride !  But  those  who  sit  at 
the  window  on  the  right  side  of  the  train  can  appreciate 
both  the  triumph  of  the  builders  and  the  unusual  scen- 
ery. As  the  train  passes  swiftly  across  its  island,  the 
thoughts  turn  to  the  first  settler,  Ebenezer  Allen,  who, 
in  1777,  at  Shelburne  Point,  led  a  company  of  men 
who  took  from  British  troops  a  number  of  prisoners. 
Among  these  was  a  negro  woman  and  child.  Knowing 
that  slavery  was  forbidden  by  the  Constitution,  he 
wrote  "to  whom  it  may  concern:" 

"According  to  a  Resolve  Past  by  the  Honorable 

153 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Continental  Congress  that  all  Prisses  belong  to  the 
Captivators  thereof,  therefore  she  and  her  Child  became 
the  just  Property  of  the  Captivators  thereof." 

So  he  set  them  both  free — "I  being  Consoihentious 
that  it  is  not  Eight  in  the  Sight  of  God  to  Keep  Slaves," 
he  wrote. 

For  seven  miles  the  railroad  follows  Grand  Isle,  the 
old  home  of  the  manumitter,  sometimes  close  to  the 
lake,  where  there  are  glimpses  of  the  water,  other 
islands  and  the  eastern  shore;  sometimes  farther  in- 
land, among  the  lands  of  those  who,  until  the  building 
of  the  railroad  during  the  early  years  of  the  twentieth 
century,  had  no  communication  with  the  mainland 
except  by  boat. 

The  gap  to  North  Hero  Island  leads  across  the 
channel  to  Pilot's  Knob,  a  narrow,  wooded  ridge  that 
precedes  the  fine  rolling  lands  where  farmers  share  with 
cottagers  the  pleasures  of  the  summer  in  the  fairyland 
amid  the  waters. 

One  of  the  first  official  records  referring  to  this 
island,  as  well  as  its  neighbor  to  the  south,  was  made 
to  the  "General  Assembly  of  the  State  of  Vermont"  in 
1779,  in  a  petition  that  "  Humbly  Shueth  that  Wharas 
there  is  a  Large  tract  of  Land  the  jint  Property  of  the 
State  in  Pertickler. .  .two  large  Hands  lying  in  the 
Lake  Champlain  betwine  Crown  Pint  and  Canaday 
South  line. .  .about  Anaf  for  two  town  Ships."  Hav- 
ing made  this  introduction  the  petition  concluded,  "We 
yeour  Hanners  Petisners  Prey  in  behalf  of  our  Selves 
and  others  that  the  two  a  bove  s'd  Hans  be  granted 
to  us  and  a  Sutible  Number  of  settlers  with  all  the 
Good  Eegalation  town  ships  as  your  Honners  shal  see 
fite  in  your  Grate  Wisdom. . .  " 


ALONG  EASTERN  NEW  YORK  BY  WATER 

A  third  deep  fill  has  on  the  west  green  Isle  La  Motte, 
called  the  "Little  Gem  of  the  Lake,"  named  for  Captain 
La  Motte,  who  built  there  the  French  fort  St.  Anne  in 
1665,  and  on  the  east  the  wasp-like  " Carrying  Place" 
of  North  Hero,  where  of  old  smugglers  eluded  author- 
ities pursuing  in  more  unwieldy  craft  by  the  simple 
expedient  of  crossing  the  narrow  neck  of  land  and  re- 
embarking  on  the  other  side,  in  effect  miles  from  their 
hunters,  though  actually  but  a  tantalizingly  short  dis- 
tance away.  This  fill  enables  the  railroad  to  take  the 
mainland  where  the  Tongue  reaches  down  from  the  Al- 
burgh  peninsula. 

After  a  few  miles  more  on  the  peninsula  the  railroad 
turns)  west,  crossing  the  Richelieu  River)  into*  New 
York  State  by  a  trestle  a  mile  long,  from  which  there 
is,  to  the  south,  a  last  glimpse  of  the  hundred-mile-long 
lake,  while  to  the  north  loom  up  the  stone  walls  of  Fort 
Montgomery,  called  Fort  Blunder  because,  in  1818,  only 
a  few  years  after  it  was  built,  careful  surveys  showed 
that  it  was  just  over  the  line  in  Canada.  The  land  on 
which  the  fort  stands  was  ceded  by  treaty  to  the  United 
States  in  1842. 

Thus  from  United  States  territory  the  fort  frowns 
harmlessly  down  on  the  last  miles  of  the  grand  passage 
from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  lakes  that  lead  to  the 
Hudson — the  historic  route,  through  three  centuries, 
of  countless  thousands,  intent  on  errands  both  of  peace 
and  war. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
IN  ADIRONDACK  WILDS 

IT  is  the  boast  of  New  Yorkers  that,  while  the 
Adirondack  Mountains  may  not  be  as  grand  or 
as  lofty  as  the  Rocky  Mountains,  they  are  at  any 
rate  the  country's  oldest  mountains.  They  call  at- 
tention to  the  assurances  of  the  geologists  that  the 
peaks  of  these  mountains  peeped  out  of  the  sea  as 
rock  islands  long  before  convulsions  of  nature  produced 
the  Rockies,  which  must  therefore  be  content  to  be 
'  '  also  rans"  in  the  race  for  priority. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  for  the  possessors  of  the 
mountains  of  northeastern  New  York  to  be  too  modest 
in  their  claims  as  to  the  beauty  and  nobility  of  proud 
eminences  like  Mount  Marcy,  one  hundred  and  four 
feet  more  than  a  mile  in  height,  which  cherishes  Lake 
Tear  in  the  Clouds,  the  ultimate  source  of  the  Hudson 
River.  The  Indians  called  the  mountain  Tahawus,  the 
Cloud  Piercer,  but  in  late  days  it  has  been  condemned 
to  bear  the  more  prosaic  name  of  the  early  Governor 
of  New  York,  William  L.  Marcy,  one  of  whose  claims 
to  fame  is  that  he  first  used  the  phrase,  "To  the  victor 
belongs  the  spoils,"  though  a  better  claim  is  that  he 
helped  pass  the  law  that  gave  a  free  library  to  every 
one  of  New  York's  school  districts. 

Facing  Marcy  is  Haystack,  with  the  gloomy  Panther 
Gorge  between,  and  a  short  distance  to  the  west  lofty 
Mt.  Mclntyre  and  rocky  Mt.  Colden  have  separated 
themselves  just  far  enough  to  make  that  favorite  path- 

156 


AVALANCHE  LAKE  IN  WINTER 
Between  Mt.  Golden  and  Mt.  Mclntyre,  New  York 


IN  ADIRONDACK  WILDS 

way  of  Indians  who  sought  the  North,  Avalanche  Pass. 
The  walls  rise  abruptly  on  either  side,  and  Avalanche 
Lake — loftiest  lake  in  New  York  State — fills  the  gap. 
From  the  precipices  on  either  side  avalanche's  thunder 
down  into  the  waters,  making  the  passage  dangerous 
during  the  season  of  ice  and  snow. 

Another  pass  that  was  famous  in  the  days  of  the 
Iroquois  is  Indian  Pass,  a  gorge  shadowed  by  Mounts 
McNaughton,  Henderson  and  Santanoni.  Mt.  Hender- 
son has  as  neighbor  on  the  north  rock- walled  Wallface, 
as  well  as  Mt.  Seward,  whose  forest-covered  twin  peaks 
show  to  perfection  the  fifteen-mile  stretch  of  Long  Lake 
—a  widening  of  Raquette  River — with  mountain 
ridges  on  either  side  and  wooded  islands  like  emeralds 
on  its  winding  silver  ribbon. 

Down  to  the  south  of  Long  Lake,  Blue  Mountain 
peeps  down  on  Blue  Mountain  Lake,  where  islands  large 
and  islands  small  scattered  carelessly  about  look  like 
bits  of  the  mountain  slopes  located  where  they  can  be 
most  effective  as  parts  of  a  picture  that  would  have  en- 
raptured the  poets  of  England's  famous  Lake  District. 

To  name  even  one-tenth  of  the  lakes  and  mountain 
peaks  of  the  Adirondacks  would  be  a  tedious  task ;  there 
are  nearly  two  thousand  mountains  and  fifteen  hundred 
lakes  in  the  Couch-sa-ra-ge  or  Dismal  Wilderness  of 
the  Iroquois,  which  is  bounded,  roughly,  by  the  Mohawk 
and  the  Black  Rivers,  Lake  Ontario  and  the  St.  Law- 
rence, Lake  Champlain,  Lake  George,  and  the  Hudson 
River.  Access  to  this  region  of  endless  delight  is  made 
easy  not  only  by  these  waterways,  but  by  railroads,  as 
well  as  by  highways  that  penetrate  to  every  part. 
Details  of  these  roads  are  given  in  the  Recreation  Cir- 
cular, "Adirondack  Highways,"  published  by  the  New 

157 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

York  Conservation  Commission  at  Albany.  Special 
attention  is  given  to  that  portion — the  lion's  share — of 
the  mountain  paradise  set  apart  by  the  State  as  Adi- 
rondack Park. 

A  second  fascinating  booklet  issued  by  the  Commis- 
sion tells  of  the  wonderful  Adirondack  Canoe  Eoutes 
that  start  at  Old  Forge,  little  more  than  fifty  miles 
from  Utica,  and — with  a  few  brief  portages  that  really 
add  zest  to  the  sport — lead  through  the  Fulton  Chain, 
to  Eaquette  Lake  and  Forked  Lake,  Eaquette  Eiver 
and  Long  Lake,  Eaquettte  Eiver  once  more,  and  Tup- 
per  Lake,  or  to  the  Saranacs. 

Equipped  with  the  canoeing  booklet,  supplemented 
by  the  eighteen  five-cent  sheets  of  the  United  States 
Geological  Survey  which  tell  in  detail  of  the  lakes  by 
the  way,  the  vacation  seeker  should  not  fail  to  find 
the  satisfaction  due  him  who  longs  for  days  on  the 
water  where  fish  are  plentiful,  where  beaver  abound 
and  deer  come  down  to  drink,  where  the  birches  may 
yet  be  found  in  all  their  silver  glory. 

Those  who  appreciate  the  birch  tree  have  a  warm 
feeling  for  the  Indian  guide  of  whom  an  Adirondack 
tramper  told.  One  day  the  tramper  reached  up  to  get 
a  birch  bark  cup  from  a  tree  near  the  camp,  directly 
on  the  trail.  But  the  Indian  said,  ' i  Wait,  me  go  back. ' ' 
In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  with  a  cup  he  had  fash- 
ioned from  bark  gathered  on  a  tree  that  was  invisible 
from  the  trail.  Ashamed,  the  tramper  said,  "You  did 
not  want  me  to  take  bark  from  a  tree  near  the  trail  f " 
"No,  too  pretty  V9  was  the  reply  of  the  savage  whose 
people  had  never  dreamed  of  desecrating  the  wilderness. 

With  the  coming  of  the  white  man  some  of  the 
glories  of  the  wild  began  to  disappear.  Once  deer 

158 


IN  ADIRONDACK  WILDS 

twere  plentiful  there,  but  as  early  as  1709  it  became 
necessary  to  make  a  close  season  for  deer  in  Suffolk 
County,  and  in  1788  the  close  season  was  extended  to 
the  entire  state.  As  the  years  passed,  the  law  was 
more  rigidly  enforced,  but  by  1919  it  was  estimated 
that  there  were  only  about  fifty  thousand  deer  in  the 
state.  That  year  more  than  sixty  thousand  hunters 
entered  the  mountains — more  than  one  for  each  deer! 
They  had  pleaded  for  a  relaxing  of  the  law  so  that  does 
as  well  as  bucks  might  be  killed.  One  of  the  arguments 
was  that  no  one  would  kill  a  doe  when  he  could  secure 
a  buck.  Yet  official  investigation  of  the  trophies  of 
many  hunters  who  left  the  mountain  country  showed 
three  does  killed  to  one  buck.  If  continued,  such 
slaughter  soon  would  have  exterminated  the  white- 
tailed  deer. 

A  few  years  ago  it  was  feared  that  the  beaver  had 
been  exterminated  by  wholesale  trapping.  In  1895 
there  were  very  few  beaver  in  the  state.  A  law  pro- 
tecting the  survivors  was  passed,  and  in  1921  there 
were  nearly  twenty  thousand  of  the  busy  beaver  on 
the  watercourses,  and  probably  at  least  one  thousand 
dams.  The  damage  done  by  the  little  creatures  became 
so  great  that  the  destruction  of  some  of  them,  within 
strictly  prescribed  limits,  was  urged.  Many  of  their 
dams  that  led  to  the  killing  of  trees,  and  the  overflow 
of  highways,  were  destroyed.  But  more  energetic 
measures  became  necessary,  because  the  beaver  would 
restore  a  dam  in  a  single  night. 

Legends  linger  about  the  lakes  where  the  beaver 
are  so  busy.  But  better  even  than  legends  are  tales 
like  that  which  has  given  Saranac  Lake  renown  for 
heroism  as  well  as  for  beauty.  This  is  the  story  of 

150 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Edward  Livingstone  Trudeau,  the  New  York  City  phy- 
sician who,  in  1873,  was  told  that  he  had  not  long  to 
live.  He  sought  the  Adironda,cks,  not  because  he 
thought  the  climate  would  help  him,  but  because  of  his 
delight  in  the  forest  primeval.  On  the  forty- two-mile 
ride  down  from  Ausable  Forks  to  Paul  Smith's  he  had 
to  lie  on  a  mattress.  At  Paul  Smith's  he  was  greeted 
by  strong,  healthy  men  who  little  thought  that  forty 
years  later  most  of  them  would  be  dead,  while  he  would 
still  be  in  the  mountains. 

The  open-air  life  restored  him  miraculously.  Soon 
he  was  caring  for  a  few  patients — an  injured  guide, 
perhaps,  or  some  of  the  summer  guests  who  needed 
him.  When  he  removed  to  Saranac  Lake,  several  in- 
valids from  the  city  came  to  seek  his  aid.  As  he 
treated  them  and  their  successors,  there  developed 
gradually  the  dream  of  a  sanitarium  where  patients 
who  sought  the  mountains,  hoping  to  arrest  consump- 
tion, might  find  winter  accommodations.  His  dream 
found  its  first  realization  in  1884,  when  he  opened  the 
Adirondack  Cottage  Sanitarium. 

The  site  chosen  was  on  the  side  of  Pisgah  Moun- 
tain, where  the  unbroken  forest,  rising  abruptly  from 
the  river,  and  the  extensive  sweep  of  the  valley,  made 
a  deep  impression  on  him).  The  guests,  who  had  learned 
to  love  him,  clubbed  together  and  bought  sixteen  acres 
on  the  favored  spot. 

For  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  Dr.  Trudeau 
served  others,  and  before  he  died  he  had  the  joy  of 
seeing  the  hospital  grow  until  it  was  giving  hope  and 
life  to  scores  and  hundreds. 

Dr.  Trudeau 's  hospital  at  Saranao  Lake,  the  largest 
village  in  the  Adirondacks,  is  close  to  Lower  Saranac 

160 


IN  ADIRONDACK  WILDS 

Lake,  which  is  thought  to  be  a  marvel  of  surpassing 
beauty  until  Lake  Placid  is  seien.  Then  Saranac  is 
not  displaced  in  the  affections ;  it  is  only  coupled  with 
another  glory  of  the  mountains.  And  as  acquaintance 
is  extended,  the  list  of  favorites  also  is  extended.  For 
it  is  impossible  to  select  one  of  the  Adirondack  lakes 
and  say  of  it,  "This  is  the  finest. " 

Numbers  of  mountains  and  lakes  are  passed  in  the 
course  of  a  railroad  journey  from  the  head  of  Lake 
Champlain  at  Rouse's  Point  to  Utica — the  only  railroad 
route  that  cuts  across  the  entire  Adirondack  region. 
First  it  traverses  a  high  plateau  around  the  edge  of 
the  mountains.  Forests  are  everywhere,  and  rocks — 
sometimes  scattered  aimlessly,  again  a  rock  floor  for 
the  plateau  or  outer  oppings  that  look  like  the  founda- 
tions of  some  giant's  castle.  Here  and  there  the  plateau 
is  broken  by  some  stream  that  has  cut  a  way  far 
below  the  surface.  Soon  after  leaving1  Malone  the 
railroad  is  in  the  midst  of  the  mountains.  Bounded 
summits  rise  on  either  hand,  but  particular  attention 
is  attracted  by  Owl's  Head,,  on  the  right  of  the  track, 
named  because  there  is  a  fancied  resemblance  to  the 
bird  of  the  night.  Other  mountains  like  many-humped 
camels  appear,  with  lakes  so  enticing  that  it  is  difficult 
to  remain  on  the  train. 

If,  when  Utica  is  reached,  the  conscience  is  troubled 
because  the  journey  through  the  Adirondacks  has  been 
made  too  quickly,  a  good  way  to  satisfy  it  is  by  going 
on  to  Oswego,  there  taking  the  steamer  to  the 
lower  end  of  Lake  Ontario,  and  along  the  stretch  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  included  in  the  St.  Lawrence  Reserva- 
tion set  apart  by  New  York.  The  reservation,  which 
includes  the  Thousand  Islands,  is  matched  by  the 

11  161 


SEEING  THE  EASTEBN  STATES 

reservation  on  the  Canadian  side  of  the  river.  Thus 
both  banks  and  all  the  islands  are  included  in  an  Inter- 
national Park,  dedicated  to  the  pleasure  of  the  people. 
The  Indians,  with  their  usual  genius  for  giving  names, 
called  this  favored  region  Monatoana,  ' '  The  Garden  of 
the  Great  Spirit."  To  the  English  it  became  "the 
Lake  of  a  Thousand  Islands,"  for  the  river,  just  as 
it  leaves  the  lake,  is  fifteen  miles  wide,  while  a  dozen 
miles  or  more  farther  on  it  is  still  four  miles  wide. 

Most  of  the  islands  are  in  private  hands,  but  their 
owners  cooperate  with  the  state  authorities,  who  con- 
trol various  parks  on  the  shore  as  well  as  islands  on 
the  stream,  so  that  there  is  a  generous  welcome  to  those 
who  come  to  see  the  seventeen  hundred  islands.  If 
their  approach  is  by  the  Roosevelt  Memorial  Highway 
that  skirts  the  shore  of  the  river — a  section  of  the 
longer  highway  from  Portland,  Maine,  to  Portland, 
Oregon — they  will  pass  close  to  some  of  the  state  parks, 
one  of  them  directly  opposite  Carleton  Island, 
where  may  still  be  seen  the  ruins  of  Fort  Haldimand, 
built  by  the  British  during  the  Revolution. 

When  the  project  for  the  St.  Lawrence  outlet  from 
the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Sea  is  carried  out  by  the 
building  of  dams  and  canals,  these  islands  of  the 
International  Park  will  be  passed  by  thousands  of  ocean 
vessels  that  will  carry  the  products  of  the  western 
farms  from  the  prairies  to  European  markets,  and 
thus  there  will  be  forged  another  link  in  the  chain  that 
binds  together  the  people  to  the  north  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence and  the  nation  to  the  south. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OF  THE 
IEOQUOIS 

From  Troy  to  Buffalo 

WHEN  tlie  Iroquois  Indians  of  what  is  now  New 
York  State  were  in  their  glory,  their  old  men 
used  to  tell  around  their  council  fires  of  the 
time  when  their  ancestors,  long  confined  under  a 
mountain  near  the  falls  of  the  Oswego  Elver,  were  re- 
leased by  the  Holder  of  the  Heavens,  Ta-reng-a-wa-gon. 
By  him  they  were  directed  to  the  country  between  the 
Hudson  Eiver  and  Lake  Erie.  The  Mohawks  lived  to 
the  eastward,  then  came  the  Oneidas,  the  Onondagas, 
the  Cayugas  and  the  Senecas.  All  went  well  with  them 
until  enemies  from  the  north  attacked  the  Onandagas. 
They  appealed  to  Ta-reng-a-wa-gon,  and  he  urged  them 
to  call  a  council  of  the  Five  Nations,  who  should  then 
band  together  as  brothers.  A  council  was  held  on  the 
shores  of  Onondaga  Lake,  and  the  Five  Nations  organ- 
ized Ko-no-shi-o-ni,  the  Long  House.  The  Mohawks 
agreed  to  guard  the  eastern  door,  while  to  the  Senecas 
was  given  charge  of  the  western  door.  The  capital,  the 
seat  of  the  Council  Fire,  was  in  the  territory  of  the 
Onondagas,  a  few  miles  south  of  the  present  site 
of  Syracuse. 

But  while  the  story  of  the  origin  of  the  Long  House 
is  legendary,  the  Long  House  itself  was  a  vivid 
reality.  In  their  fair  chosen  territory,  "the  Eomans 
of  the  New  World, "  as  they  have  been  called,  hunted 
in  time  of  peace  and  hurried  hither  and  thither  in  time 

163 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

of  war.  From  north  to  south  and  from  east  to  west, 
so  Fiske  says,  "the  bronzed  warriors  of  the  famous 
federation  traveled  swiftly  and  struck  silently. ' '  And 
they  maintained  their  hold  on  this  territory  until  1768, 
when  the  treaty  of  Fort  Stanwix  opened  the  country 
from  Lake  Ontario  to  the  Delaware.  But  even  yet 
their  names  are  graven  from  east  to  west  of  what  was 
the  Long  House — on  the  Mohawk  River,  and  on  four  of 
the  lakes  that  are  embosomed  in  the  heart  of  New 
York  State. 

The  Mohawk's  entrance  to  the  Hudson  is  close  to 
Troy,  the  manufacturing  city  at  the  head  of  tidewater 
on  the  Hudson  River  that  stretches  along  the  stream 
for  seven  miles.  From  these  highlands  the  warriors 
of  the  Iroquois  often  looked  on  the  sweeping  Mohawk. 
Those  who  have  come  after  them  see  not  only  the 
river,  but  also  the  Erie  Canal,  completed  in  1825  from 
Lake  Erie  to  the  Hudson  River. 

The  eastern  door  to  the  country  through  which  the 
canal  was  cut  was  a  movable  affair,  for  Schenectady, 
west  of  Troy,  was  once  called  Schoo,  a  contraction 
probably  of  Schonowe,  Indian  for  the  gate.  It  is  most 
certainly  the  entrance  to  a,  region  of  beauty,  fertility 
and  picture squeness  by  many  thought  beyond  compari- 
son. The  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  stretching  away 
toward  Lake  Ontario,  is  an  artist's  paradise. 

In  this  glorious  Mohawk  country  the  Indians  took 
delight.  But  sometimes  the  braves  hearkened  to  the 
call  of  the  Delaware  and  the  Chesapeake,  where  they 
had  hunting  grounds.  Then  a  favored  route  of  travel 
was  from  the  Mohawk  near  the  site  of  Canajoharie  to 
Otsego  Lake,  and  so  to  the  Susquehanna.  On  the  way 
they  passed  a  depression  in  the  trail  where  now  is 

164 


THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OP  THE  IROQUOIS 

Cherry  Valley.  There,  in  1738,  Samuel  Dunlop,  a  min- 
ister from  Ireland,  attracted  by  the  peaceful  valley,  on 
the  edge  of  the  rugged  country,  settled  his  little  colony 
from  New  Hampshire  on  eight  thousand  acres,  received 
from  the  Indians.  And  there  they  remained  in  peace 
until  that  awful  day  in  1778  when  Brant  and  his  Indians 
fell  on  the  frontier  settlement,  killed  some  of  the  people, 
and  drove  the  rest  to  Schenectady.  A  tablet  on  the 
Presbyterian  Church  at  Cherry  Valley  tells  the  story. 

One  of  the  sources  of  the  Susquehanna  has  its 
beginning  close  to  Cherry  Valley.  Another  comes  from 
Otsego  Lake,  famous  because  in  the  valley  to  the  south, 
at  Cooperstown,,  James  Fenimore  Cooper  was  born. 
There  he  spent  his  boyhood,  and  in  the  vicinity  he  wrote 
many  of  his  novels.  But  for  many  years  he  was  the 
most  unpopular  man  on  the  lake.  This  was  due  to  his 
innocent  attempts  to  preserve  his  rights  to  a  beauty- 
spot  on  the  shore,  called  Three-mile  Point,  because  of 
the  distance  from  Cooperstown.  In  legal  form  he  as- 
serted his  rights  to  the  Point,  but  promised  to  grant 
the  use  of  the  property  to  all  who  would  ask  his 
permission.  The  villages  opposed  *  *  the  arrogant  pre- 
tensions of  one  James  Fennimore  Cooper"  for  they 
proposed  to  continue  to  use  the  Point  "without  being 
indebted  to  the  liberality  of  anyone,  whether  native 
or  foreigner." 

The  result  was  a  demand  for  the  removal  of  Cooper's 
novels  from  the  Cooperstown  Library,  and  a  series  of 
attacks  that  were  made  the  basis  of  libel  suits  from 
1838  to  1844. 

Sometimes  Cooper's  heroes  went  to  the  Mohawk 
country,  which  is  at  its  best  to  the  north  of  Otsego 
Lake  and  westward  to  Utica.  There,  in  Forest  Hill 

165 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Cemetery,  is  a  memorial  of  the  heroic  days  of  which 
the  novelist  told — the  Sacred  Stone  of  the  Oneida  Indi- 
ans, which  for  generations  was  the  gathering  place 
for  those  who  would  take  counsel  for  the  good  of  the 
Five  Nations.  In  1849,  with  the  consent  of  the  Oneidas, 
the  stone  was  moved  to  the  cemetery,  where  survivors 
of  the  tribe  sometimes  pay  it  a  visit  of  ceremony. 

North  of  Utica  is  a  country  that  was  famous  many 
years  ago,  and  that  should  be  better  known  today. 
There  West  Canada  Creek,  coming  down  from  its  source 
in  the  lakes  in  the  heart  of  the  Adirondacks,  descends 
312  feet  within  two  miles,  between  rock  walls  often  as 
high  as  150  feet.  Several  of  the  series  of  cataracts 
which  are  known  as  Trenton  Falls  are  eighty  feet  high. 

There  was  a  day  when  no  visit  to  America  was 
thought  complete  without  a  pilgrimage  to  Trenton 
Falls.  Visitors  came'  to  this  from  all  sections  of  the 
country,  as  well  as  from  abroad. 

The  Mohawk  country  to  the  south  of  Trenton  Falls 
won  a  place  in  annals  of  the  Revolution  by  an  event 
that  proved  to  be  more  momentous  than  participants 
in  it  thought  at  the  time.  At  Herkimer,  east  of  Utica, 
the  seat  of  Fort  Dayton,  lived  General  Nicholas 
Herkimer.  At  Eome,  forty  miles  to  the  west,  Fort 
Stanwix  sheltered  troops  which  were  a  source  of 
strength  to  the  whole  valley.  In  August,  1777,  a  force 
of  about  seventeen  hundred  whites  and  Indians,  under 
General  St.  Leger,  laid  siege  to  the  seven  hundred 
Continentals  in  the  fort,  who  were  flying  above  it,  the 
new  flag  adopted  by  the  Continental  Congress,  which 
had  been  made  from  a  white  sheet,  a  soldier's  blue 
coat,  and  strips  from  the  red  petticoat  of  a  sol- 
dier's wife. 

166 


TRENTON    FALLS,    NEW    YORK 


GORGE  OF  THE  GENESEE  RIVER  AT  ROCHESTER,  NEW  YORK 


THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OF  THE  IROQUOIS 

Word  of  the  peril  of  the  men  at  the  fort  was  carried 
to  the  old  hero  at  Herkimer,  who  quietly  assembled  a 
force  of  militia  and  hastened  up  the  valley  toward  Fort 
Stanwix.  On  August  6,  when  they  were  crossing  a 
picturesque  ravine  two  miles  from  the  entrance  into 
the  Mohawk  of  Oriskany  Creek,  Herkimer 's  men  were 
attacked  by  eight  hundred  troops  under  Joseph  Brant. 
Then  followed  a  brief  conflict  of  which  a  British  his- 
torian has  said,  "Oriskany,  for  the  strength  of  the 
forces  engaged,  proved  to  be  the  bloodiest  conflict  of 
the  entire  war."  Of  the  eight  hundred  surprised  men, 
more  than  six  hundred  were  either  killed  or  wounded. 
Their  leader,  wounded  at  the  beginning,  directed  the 
defense  from  the  ground.  Later  he  was  taken  back  to 
his  fortress  home  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Mohawk, 
near  Herkimer,  where  he  died. 

The  old  homestead  has  been  made  a  shrine  by  the 
state.  His  memory  is  further  preserved  by  a  monu- 
ment at  Herkimer;  by  fourteen  stones  that  mark  his 
route  to  Oriskany;  and  by  a  battle  monument  on  a 
height  by  the  side  of  the  ravine,  the  scene  of  the 
conflict,  called  by  some  "the  Thermopylae  of  the  Amer- 
ican Revolution, "  for  it  led  directly  to  the  defeat  of 
Burgoyne  at  Saratoga. 

The  monuments  at  Oriskany  and  Herkimer  have 
companions  not  far  away.  At  Clinton,  not  many  miles 
from  Utica,  is  a  stone  erected  in  commemoration  of  the 
treaty  of  Fort  Stanwix,  November  5, 1768,  which  opened 
to  settlement  a  wide  extent  of  the  Indian  country.  At 
Steuben,  in  the  center  of  a  five-acre  tract  of  woodland, 
stands  the  monument  to  Major  General  Frederick 
William  Steuben,  friend  of  the  colonists  in  the  Eevolu- 
tion,  who  died  on  a  part  of  the  sixteen  thousand  acre 

167 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

tract  given  him  by  New  York  because  of  his  services, 
and  at  Rome  is  the  memorial  of  the  fort  of  the  treaty, 
the  fort  besieged  by  St.  Leger,  which  was  built  to  guard 
the  "carrying  place"  from  the  Mohawk  to  Wood  Creek. 
.This  important  stretch  of  three  miles  began  at  the 
western  part  of  the  sharp  bend  described  by  the  Mo- 
hawk in  its  passage  through  the  town. 

Historically  Rome  is  remarkable  also,  because,  on 
the  route  of  the  old  portage,  the  first  spadeful  of  earth 
was  turned  by  the  builders  of  the  Erie  Canal.  This 
was  Rome's  celebration  of  Independence  Day,  1817. 
And  on  July  4,  1918,  was  celebrated  the  enlargement 
of  the  Canal  for  the  accommodation  of  barges  of  one 
thousand  tons  burden. 

The  Indian's  called  Rome  Deo-wain-sta,  "The  Great 
Carrying  Place."  The  English  name  was  given  to  it 
because  of  the  part  taken  there  in  the  defense  of  the 
Republic.  Thus  it  took  its  place  with  a  notable  company 
of  New  York  cities,  towns  and  villages,  most  of  them 
in  the  central  part  of  the  state,  which  have  classical 
names.  Others  are  Ithaca,  Syracuse,  Utica,  Troy, 
Aristotle,  Attica,  Aurelius,  Carthage,  Cato,  Cicero, 
Euclid,  Junius,  Ovid,  Palmyra,,  Penelope,  Plato,  Scipio, 
Solon,  and  Virgil ! 

Rome  was  not  given  its  name  for  more  than  fifty 
years  after  St.  Leger  paid  his  disastrous  visit  to  Fort 
Stanwix.  The  start  for  his  expedition  was  made  from 
Fort  Oswego,  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Ontario,  where  the 
English  had  been  in  power  for  many  years,  with  a  brief 
interruption  following  1756,  when  the  French  captured 
the  stronghold. 

The  modern  city  dates  from  1797,  when  the  legis- 
lature set  apart  one  hundred  acres  on  the  west  side 

168 


THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OF  THE  IROQUOIS 

of  the  Oswego  Biver,  at  its  mouth,  as  the  site  of  the 
town.  Montcahn  Park  is  a  part  of  the  original  site. 

An  important  section  of  the  Barge  Canal  is  between 
Oswego  and  Syracuse,  the  city  situated  in  a  delightful 
amphitheater  of  hills  in  the  midst  of  which  is  Onondaga 
Lake.  The  settlement  by  the  lakeside  was  famous  in 
early  days  for  its  seemingly  inexhaustible  supplies  of 
salt.  Salt  springs  were  spoken  of  by  explorers  in  1653. 
Jn  1797  the  state  leased  the  salt  land,  and  found  it  a 
productive  source  of  supply  until  long  after  the  Civil 
War.  As  late  as  1862  nine  million  barrels  were  pro- 
duced. But  in  1898  the  lands  were  sold ;  other  centers 
had  displaced  Syracuse  in  the  production  of  the 
necessity.  More  diversified  manufactures  have  made 
Syracuse  independent  of  the  dwindling  supply. 

Syracuse  is  on  the  edge  of  the  famous  Finger  Lake 
District  whose  heart  is  where  Seneca  and  Cayuga  Lakes 
stretch  southward  in  long,  narrow  valleys,  fringed  by 
wooded  hills.  To  the  south  of  the  lakes  are  heights  of 
from  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  feet,  the  water- 
shed between  them  and  the  Susquehanna  valley. 

The  region  between  the  heights  of  the  central  portion 
of  the  peaceful  bodies  of  water  is  a  wilderness  of  creeks 
and  gorges  and  waterfalls ;  farther  north  the  country 
becomes  more  quiet,  but  it  is  still  of  remarkable  beauty. 
Those  who  have  taken  the  railroad  trip  from  Ithaca 
along  the  western  shore  of  Cayuga  Lake  know  some- 
thing of  the  bewildering  variety  of  the  scenery,  im- 
pressed on  their  minds  by  the  fascinating  glimpses  of 
water  far  down  through  the  trees  that  fringe  the  shore, 
including  the  reach  across  the  lake  where  Cornell 
University  students  row  with  their  rivals.  Those  who 
have  taken  automobile  trips  along  the  highways  close 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

to  the  lake  can  tell  more  of  the  amazing  succession  of 
natural  wonders.  But  only  those  who  have  spent  days 
in  tramping  through  the  valleys  and  along  the  streams 
can  understand  why  geologists  declare  that  this  Finger 
Lake  Country  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  America. 

The  peculiar  structure  of  the  valleys — "hanging 
valleys  "  they  are  called — tributary  to  the  lakes  is  the 
explanation  given  of  the  variety  of  scenic  features. 
This  structure  is  similar  in  some  respects  to  that 
of  the  Yosemite  Valley.  Through  these  valleys 
streams  flow  more  or  less  sedately  along  until  they 
reach  an  elevation  of  from  eight  hundred  to  nine  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea.  Then  they  descend  by  pictur- 
esque falls  and  along  dark  and  devious  gorges  to  the 
level  of  the  lake.  Within  a  few  miles  of  Ithaca  are 
dozens  of  these  hanging  valleys,  with  their  falls  and 
gorges,  and  close  to  the  south  end  of  Seneca  Lake 
are  many  more.  Visitors  to  Cornell  University  and 
Ithaca  know  Falls  Creek,  at  the  boundary  of  the 
campus,  spanned  by  a  bridge  high  above  the  gorge, 
and  close  to  the  falls.  Travelers  on  the  Lehigh  Valley 
Railroad  have  learned  to  look  for  lofty  Taughannock 
Falls,  from  the  bridge  flung  across  the  gorge.  Watkins 
Glen,  near  the  head  of  Seneca  Lake,  is  familiar  to  many 
because  the  State  Reservation,  with  its  three  miles 
of  falls  and  cascades,  bounded  by  rocky  walls,  is  well 
advertised.  But  how  many  know  of  Excelsior  Glen, 
Montour  Falls,  Hector  Falls,  Havana  Glen,  Cascadilla 
Creek,  Newfield  Creek,  Trumansburg  Creek,  Salmon 
Creek,  or  the  gorges  that  lead  to  little  Cayuta  Lake? 

When  the  Finger  Lake  gorges  are  left  behind  by 
the  traveler  bound  south  to  the  Susquehanna,  beauty  is 
not  ended,  though  the  country  is  entirely  different. 

170 


IN     WATKINS     GLEN,     NEW     YORK 


THROUGH  THE  LONG  HOUSE  OF  THE  IROQUOIS 

First  there  is  a  wide  valley,  bounded  by  a  succession  of 
rounded  Mils,  now  high,  now  low.  This  is  the  country 
of  starry  fields  of  buckwheat.  Then  comes  a  narrower 
valley,  bounded  on  either  hand  by  rounded  ridges  where 
the  evergreens  mingle  with  the  deciduous  trees.  Always 
a  look  backward  or  forward  gives  the  impression  of  a 
closed-in  valley;  the  twisting  of  the  ridges  makes  them 
seem  to  obstruct  passage  in  any  direction. 

But  the  journey  westward  from  the  north  end  of 
the  lakes  is  altogether  different.  The  country  becomes 
less  rugged,  but  it  never  for  a  moment  loses  its  charm. 
One  place  is  remarkable  because  of  the  gorge  of  the 
Genesee  Eiver,  in  the  heart  of  Rochester,  from  fifty 
to  two  hundred  feet  high.  The  Falls  of  the  Genesee 
are  the  center  of  interest,  with  their  plunges  of  96,  26 
and  83  feet.  And  then  during  the  seven  miles  from  the 
city  to  the  lake,  the  river  drops  263  feet  more !  These 
falls  and  gorges  are  explained  by  geologists  in  the 
same  manner  as  those  at  Niagara.  The  crossing  of 
the  river  by  the  Erie  Canal,  on  an  arched  viaduct, 
adds  to  the  variety  of  the  water  picture  in  the  city 
that  was  first  called  Falls  Town,  then  Rochesterville. 

But  Rochester  cannot  claim  all  the  worth-while 
part  of  the  Genesee  Eiver.  Perhaps  fifty  miles  up  the 
stream  a  State  Reservation  called  Letchworth  Park, 
containing  one  thousand  acres,  includes  Portage  Gorge 
and  Portage  Falls.  Though  little  known  in  comparison, 
this  reservation  is  well  entitled  to  recognition  with  the 
Niagara  Reservation  by  reason  of  its  unusual  charm. 

Beyond  the  Genesee  and  Rochester  the  rolling 
country  leads  to  Buffalo,  the  city  which  President 
McKinley  called  "the  great  doorway  of  the  inland 
seas."  Yet  it  is  little  more  than  a  century  since  a 

171 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

visitor  to  the  shore  of  Lake  Erie  spoke  slightingly  of 
"Buffalo,  a  village  of  about  sixteen  houses  near  the 
outlet  of  Lake  Erie, ' '  and  added  that  it  could  be  avoided 
by  using  a  road  that  passed  within  two  miles !  Today 
who  wants  to  avoid  the  city  now  famous  for  shady 
streets,  pleasant  homes,  inviting  boulevards  and  parks 
— from  which  the  Keep  off  the  Grass  signs  have  all  been 
removed, — as  well  as  for  tremendous  business  activity, 
both  on  land  and  on  the  water?  The  building  near 
here — in  1679 —  of  the  Griffon,  first  vessel  on  the  Great 
Lakes,  and — in  1818 — of  the  Wallc-in-the-Water,  first 
steamer  on  the  Lakes,  was  a  prophecy  of  its  fame  as  a 
port,  while  the  erection  in  1843  of  the  first  grain  eleva- 
tor in  the  world  was  a  forecast  of  the  industrial  expan- 
sion on  shore. 

What  a  change  since  1807,  when  the  visitor  to 
whom  reference  has  already  been  made,  said  that  there 
was  then  no  symptom  of  industry !  Surprised,  he  asked 
where  was  the  market  for  the  country  that  he  thought 
should  be  tributary  to  Buffalo,  and  was  informed 'that 
the  traffic  went  through  Buffalo  to  New  Orleans  by  way 
of  "Chataugru"  Lake.  The  single  portage  of  nine 
miles  between  Lake  Erie  and  New  Orleans — Chataugu 
Portage — made  the  route  pleasing. 

Once  there  was  not  even  this  land  gap,  for  there  was 
a  time  when  the  outlet  of  the  lake  that  has  given  its 
name  to  popular  lecture  courses  was  into  Lake  Erie, 
and  so  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  The  change  came — so 
geologists  say — when,  during  the  Ice  Age,  debris  de- 
posited south  of  Chautauqua  Lake  forced  it  to  seek  an 
outlet  by  way  of  the  Allegheny,  the  Ohio,  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHERE  NIAGARA'S  WATER'S  PLUNGE 

ONE  day  in  1809  a  lone  horseback  rider,  who  is 
known  only  as  "T.  C."  passed  through  the 
Genesee  Country  in  search  of  Niagara  Falls. 
"You  cannot  miss  them,"  was  the  assurance  of  a 
tavern-keeper  in  "Chippeway,"  on  the  Canadian  side 
of  the  river;  "they  are  by  the  roadside. "    And  two 
miles  farther  on,  when  he  came  to  Table  Rock,  he  had 
his  first  view  of  the  thundering  cataract. 

When  he  went  back  to  the  tavern  he  wrote  a  glowing 
description  of  what  he  had  seen  that  might  well  have 
been  penned  by  an  observer  more  than  a  century  later : 
' '  The  roaring  and  foaming  of  the  rapids,  for  near 
a  mile  in  full  view  before  the  river  arrives  at  the  preci- 
pice, the  green  tint  of  the  water,  edged  all  the  way 
down  by  curly  folds  of  snow-white  foam,  the  chasm  of 
boiling  snow  into  which  the  river  pours ;  the  mist  that 
eternally  hovers  over  the  gulf  below,  and  through  which 
you  see  at  intervals  the  turbulence  of  the  bottom;  the 
rim  of  the  island  which  divides  the  falls,  and  which 
seems  to  descend  even  below  the  edge  of  the  precipice 
itself;  the  immense  interminable  mass  of  wood,  which 
fills  the  whole  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  borders 
to  the  very  edge  of  every  part  of  the  watery  prospect; 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  the  green  and  white 
current  below  drives  along  as  if  in  haste  to  es- 
cape from  the  terrible  chasm  in  which  it  had  been 

173 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

engulfed,  form  altogether  a  scene  of  grandeur  and 
of  beauty  unrivalled. ' ' 

He  was  told  of  the  pleasure  to  be  gained  from  a  view 
of  the  Falls  by  a  descent  to  the  rocks  below,  but  when 
he  learned  that  the  only  possible  way  was  by  a  flimsy 
ladder,  kept  at  ai  house  near  by,  he  decided  not  to 
attempt  it. 

Descent  to  the  depths  has  been  easy  for  late  pil- 
grims, but  Table  Bock,  from  which  "T.  C."  had  his 
impressive  view,  crashed  into  the  stream  forty-one 
years  after  his  visit,  undermined  by  the  swirling  waters. 

The  fall  of  Table  Eock  was  an  indication  of  the 
way  in  which  the  great  Niagara  Gorge  has  been  formed 
during  a  period  that  some  geologists  say  was  but  five 
thousand  years,  while  others  insist  it  was  from  six  to 
ten  times  as  long,  or  more. 

Lake  Erie  is  nearly  three  hundred  feet  higher  than 
Lake  Ontario.  Long  ago  the  waters  from  the  higher 
level  reached  the  lower  level  at  the  escarpment,  about 
six  miles  south  of  Ontario,  plunging  over  a  ledge  of 
limestone  that  extends  back  toward  Lake  Erie  and  dis- 
appears under  the  lake.  The  water  broke  away  the 
edge  of  the  ledge  and  year  by  year  the  waterfall 
slowly  receded.  Then  the  Gorge  formed  gradually, 
until  it  reached  back  to  the  present  location  of  the 
Falls.  The  rock  is  still  wearing  away,  the  recession  of 
the  Horseshoe  Fall  being  estimated  at  four  or  five  feet 
each  year.  The  recession  of  the  American  Fall  is  not 
nearly  so  great. 

The  underlying  rock,  being  softer,  is  hollowed  out 
by  the  action  of  the  waters  at  the  foot  of  the  Falls. 
The  harder  surface  rock,  undermined,  drops  into  the 

174 


THE   AMERICAN   FALLS   AT   NIAGARA 


WHERE  NIAGARA'S  WATERS  PLUNGE 

stream  and  is  ground  to  powder  by  the  water  as  it  falls 
on  them  and  churns  above  them. 

The  height  of  the  American  Fall  is  only  167  feet 
and  of  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  158  feet;  the  remainder  of 
the  descent  to  the  level  of  Lake  Ontario  is  accounted 
for  by  the  fearful  rapids  above  and  below  the  Falls. 

The  modern  visitor  who  would  see  the  torrent  in 
its  majesty  should  follow  in  the  steps  of  "T.  C."  and 
go  to  the  Canadian  side.  Then  he  will  have  a  wonder- 
ful sweep  of  a  full  mile,  first  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  which 
is  now  more  than  three  thousand  feet  in  contour,  though 
in  1886  it  was,  but  2600  feet;  then  Goat  Island,  1300 
feet  wide;  and  finally,  the  American  Fall,  more  than 
one  thousand  feet  wide.  But  the  sweep  is  so  great 
that  the  wonderful  height  cannot  be  appreciated.  The 
view  from  Prospect  Point  gives  a  better  idea  of  height, 
but,  because  the  view  is  in  profile,  the  distance  does  not 
seem  so  much.  The  deficiencies  of  both  these  prospects 
may  be  corrected  by  a  look  upward  from  the  doughty 
little  Maid  of  the  Mist,  which  moves  back  and  forth 
over  the  quiet  waters  just  below  the  falls. 

But  these  are  only  a  few  of  the  vistas  that  fascinate 
the  visitor  at  every  turn.  The  rapids  may  be  seen  to 
wonderful  advantage  from  the  bridge  that  leads  from 
the  American  side  to  Goat  Island,  from  Terrapin  Bocks, 
and  from  Three  Sisters  Islands.  The  breath-taking 
trip  to  the  Cave  of  the  Winds  behind  the  Falls  is  an 
expedition  that  seems  more  dangerous  than  it  is.  Then 
the  final  touch  is  given  by  the  twenty-mile  trip  on  the 
Gorge  Railroad,  down  the  American  side,  to  Lewiston, 
then  up  the  Canadian  side,  three  hundred  feet  above 
the  Whirlpool,  where  it  has  been  calculated  the  waters 
move  at  forty  miles  per  hour,  and  on  until  the  vista  of 

175 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

both  Falls  bursts  on  the  eye  that  is  able  to  appreciate 
them  better  because  of  the  previous  studies  from  above 
and  from  below. 

In  1835  two  travelers  from  Scotland  foresaw  the 
day  when  thousands  would  seek  the  Falls,  and  they 
wrote  an  account  of  the  trip  in  which  they  declared, 
"  Niagara  should  be  deemed  the  property  of  civilized 
mankind."  Fifty  years  passed  before  the  legislature 
of  New  York  State  was  persuaded  that  they  were  right ; 
then  they  bought  the  land  along  the  American  shore, 
as  well  as  Goat  Island — which  has  been  called  *  *  the  most 
beautiful  island  in  the  world."  It  is  easy  to  question 
that  judgment  until  the  island  has  bean  visited — in  sum- 
mer, when  the  foliage  submerges  the  visitor  in  varied 
splendor;  in  winter,  when  every  twig  is  glorious  with 
ice  that,  when  the  sun  shines,  becomes  a  resplendent 
prism.  The  island's  plebeian  name  tells  of  the  time 
in  1770  when  it  was  the  home  of  goats. 

Long  before  the  days  of  the  goats  there  was  a  visitor 
on  the  stream  opposite  Goat  Island  that  was  prophet 
of  many  successors  whose  coming  was  looked  on  with 
foreboding.  That  visitor  was  a  sawmill,  built  to  pre- 
pare lumber  for  the  erection  of  Fort  Niagara,.  From 
that  time  there  was  talk  of  the  frightful  waste  of  power 
that  might  be  made  to  do  something  useful.  But  not 
until  1853  were  decisive  steps  taken  to  build  the  Hy- 
draulic Canal  on  the  American  side.  In  1885  came  the 
first  wheel-pits  program,  and  in  1886  followed  the 
Niagara  Falls  Power  Company.  Then  so  rapid  was 
the  increase  of  the  demands  on  the  water  that  the 
cries  of  those  who  declared  the  Falls  would  be  ruined 
were  insistent  and  despairing.  It  became  popular  to 
write  articles  on  "The  Waning  Glory  of  Niagara, " 

176 


WHERE  NIAGARA'S  WATERS  PLUNGE 

to  tell  of  "Niagara  Spoiled,"  to  plead,  "Hands 
Off  Niagara,"  to  speak  of  the  necessity  of  "Bepairing 
Niagara  Falls, ' '  to  give  warning  of  the  da,y  when  men 
would  begin  "To  Dole  Out  Niagara  Power."  One 
Cassandra  declared  that  "those  who  wish  to  see  Ni- 
agara Falls  in  anything  like  their  pristine  beauty  and 
grandeur  must  not  delay  their  visit  very  long."  In 
an  engineering  journal  a  paragrapher  moaned,  "Niag- 
ara Falls  are  doomed.  Children  already  born  may 
yet  walk  dryshod  from  the  mainland  of  the  New  York 
Reservation  to  Goat  Island,  across  the  present  bed 
of  the  Niagara  River." 

But  protection  became  effective.  The  United  States 
and  Canada  have  agreed  to  guard  the  beauty  of  the 
Falls.  Vast  power  plants  are  still  cared  for,  but  in 
such  a  way  that  Niagara  persists  and  will  continue  to 
give  satisfaction  that  varies  with  the  ideals  of  those 
who  seek  its  wonders.  Artists  and  geologists,  authors 
and  educators,  men  and  women  of  world  fame  and 
people  of  no  fame  at  all,  are  there  lost  in  amazement. 
Some  say  they  like  to  go  there  because,  in  the  midst  of 
the  tumult  of  the  waters,there  is  a  silence  most  impres- 
sive; others  have  declared  that  to  them  the  sound  of 
the  great  cataract  is  a  majestic  harmony;  as  one 
musician  said,  "the  musical  tone  of  the  Falls  is  clear, 
definite  and  unapproachable  in  its  majestic  perfection, 
a  complete  series  of  notes,  all  uniting  in  grand  and 
noble  accord." 


CHAPTER  XX 

DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 

SOMETIMES  state  lines  are  most  arbitrary.  An 
instance  is  the  beginning  of  the  coast  of  New 
Jersey.  In  early  days  it  was  felt  by  many  that 
the  journey  should  begin  at  Staten  Island.  But  they 
soon  had  to  revise  their  notion,  for  word  came  from 
England  that  all  islands  in  New  York  Bay  that  * l  could 
be  circumnavigated  in  a  day  should  belong  to  the 
province  of  New  York."  As  a  New  York  champion 
succeeded  through  his  seamanship  in  sailing  around 
Staten  Island  in  the  required  time,  the  status  of  the 
island  was  fixed. 

So  the  real  beginning  of  the  coast  tour  is  on  the 
shores  of  Raritan  Bay  and  Sandy  Hook  Bay,  with 
Sandy  Hook  reaching  out  a  narrow  finger  toward  Long 
Island.  Between  the  finger  and  Long  Island  the  end- 
less procession  of  steamships  and  sailing  vessels  moves 
on  toward  New  York. 

The  first  lighthouse  on  Sandy  Hook  was  built  in 
1762,  though  the  land  was  not  acquired  by  the  govern- 
ment until  1816.  It  was  bought  from  the  heirs  of 
Richard  Hartshorn,  whose  name  is  attached  to  a  curious 
document,  dated  8th  August,  1678.  It  told  of  the  pre- 
tense of  the  Indians  that  when  they  sold  all  the  land 
on  Sandy  Hook,  they  did  not  give  up  the  right  to  go 
on  Sandy  Hook  "to  get  plumbs  [beach  plums]  when 
they  pleased,  and  to  hunt  upon  the  land,  and  to  take 
any  tre'e  that  suited  them  for  cannows."  Then  the 

178 


DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 

document  related  how,  "for  peace  and  quietness' 
sake/'  he  paid  thirteen  shillings  to  Vowavapon,  "to 
sell  all  rights  to  plumbing,  hunting,  fowling,  fishing, 
getting  cannows." 

The  region  was  especially  attractive  to  the  Indians 
because  of  the  hills  that  come  down  to  the  waters  of 
Sandy  Hook  Bay.  These  hills,  known  to  the  successors 
of  the  Indians  as  the  Nave-sink  Highlands,  border  the 
ocean  for  a  distance  of  five  miles,  and  rise  to  a  height 
of  nearly  three  hundred  feet. 

In  Monmouth  County,  whose  northen  point  is  Sandy 
Hook,  the  sandy  beach  is  separated  from  the  mainland 
by  a  tidal  marsh  from  one  to  six  miles  wide.  This 
separating  marshland  is  a  feature  of  the  entire  coast 
of  more  than  one  hundred  miles  from  Sandy  Hook  to 
Cape  May.  Sometimes  a  long  narrow  bay  helps  to 
remove  the  beach  from  the  mainland,  and  here  and 
there  is  a  tidal  inlet  that  adds  to  the  picturesqueness 
and  the  extent  of  the  coast.  The  first  of  these  inlets 
is  the  Shrewsbury  Eiver  which,  at  Red  Bank,  is  nearly 
a  mile  wide. 

These  inlets  may  be  attractive  to  fishermen  and 
fair-weather  sailors,  but  they  are  deadly  to  mariners 
The  entire  coast  could  tell  sad  stories  of  wrecks  and 
glad  stories  of  heroism  of  the  men  of  the  United  States 
Life  Saving  Service  who  are  grouped  at  short  intervals 
where  there  is  greatest  danger. 

Storms  have  been  disastrous  to  Long  Branch, 
where  a  hotel  was  built  as  early  as  1792.  At  that 
time  the  place  was  known  only  as  Shrewsbury.  Four- 
teen years  later  there  was  a  hotel  that  could  accommo- 
date more  than  two  hundred  people.  In  1819  N lies' 
Register  said; 

179 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

'  *  There  is  a  kind  of  regulation  there  which  strangers 
often  contravene  from  ignorance,  that  is,  when  the 
stipulated  time  for  ladies '  bathing  arrives,  a  white  flag 
is  hoisted  on  the  bank,  when  it  is  high  treason  for  gentle- 
men to  be  seen  there,  and  when  the  established  time  for 
gentlemen  arrives,  the  red  flag  is  run  up." 

Long  Branch  was  at  the  height  of  its  prosperity 
during  the  Civil  War  and  for  a  few  years  afterward. 
At  one  time  homes  in  the  vicinity  were  owned  by  George 
W.  Childs,  William  E.  Drexel,  Edwin  Booth,  Lester 
Wallack,  Maggie  Mitchell,  Mary  Anderson,  and  Lily 
Langtry.  When  General  Grant  was  President,  he 
sometimes  went  to  Long  Branch  in  summer.  Elberon, 
a  short  distance  south,  was  the  scene  of  President  Gar- 
field's  gallant  struggle  for  life  in  1884. 

For  twenty-five  miles  below  Long  Branch  beach 
resorts  follow  one  another  in  rapid  succession.  Among 
the  best  known  are  Asbury  Park,  with  its  three  fresh- 
water lakes  and  its  hills  rising  abruptly  several  miles 
back — resorts  in  old  days  of  robbers  who  preyed  on 
the  farmers — and  Ocean  Grove,  developed  through 
camp-meeting  activities,  and  luring  thousands  of  visit- 
ors who  like  to  go  where  there  are  no  mosquitoes,  and 
where  the  crowds  are  not  too  great. 

Many  people  know  the  pleasures  of  resting  by  the 
sea  when  it  is  in  its  calmer  mood.  But  unless  they 
return  in  the  winter  season,  during  a  time  of  distressing 
storm,  they  really  know  little  of  the  moods  of  the  sea. 
Infrequently,  however,  even  the  summer  visitor  gets 
a  hint  of  what  a  winter  storm  can  be.  One  August 
night,  at  Asbury  Park,  the  roar  of  the  breakers  as  they 
dashed  on  the  boardwalk  was  like  thunder.  Toward 
morning  the  roar  grew  louder.  Terrified  guests — not 

180 


DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 

only  women,  but  men — came  hurrying  from  their  rooms. 
In  a  little  while  the  parlor  was  filled  with  a  company  in 
strange  array,  and  the  clerk  found  his  hands  full  as 
he  sought  to  allay  the  fears  of  grown  folks.  There  was 
no  need  to  say  anything  to  the  children;  they  were 
enjoying  the  excitement. 

South  of  Asbury  Park,  begins  a  forty-mile  section 
where  most  of  the  seaside  resorts  are  on  the  slender 
Island  Beach  and  Long  Beach,  separated  from  the 
mainland  by  Barnegat  Bay  and  Little  Egg  Harbor. 
From  Barnegat  Bay  inlets  lead  to  various  resorts  on 
the  mainland,  like  Tom's  River,  noted  today  for  its 
fishing  as  it  was  noted  in  Revolutionary  times  because 
of  the  resistance  given  to  the  invading  British  by  the 
commander  of  a  stone  blockhouse.  At  length  the  com- 
mander was  captured  and  hung  by  the  enemy ;  but  his 
fame  has  not  been  dimmed  by  his  fate. 

The  original  name  of  Barnegat  was  Barendegat, 
Dutch  for  " broken  waters."  The  evil  fame  of  these 
waters  among  mariners  early  made  necessary  the  lo- 
cation of  a  lighthouse  at  the  inlet  to  Barnegat  Bay. 
Twenty-five  years  later,  in  1858,  a  second  lighthouse 
was  built ;  the  first  had  been  destroyed  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  sea.  This  light  still  stands,  one  hundred 
and  sixty-five  feet  high.  Its  beams  send  messages  of 
warning  and  assurances  of  safety  for  forty-four  miles 
along  the  shore,  to  the  heart  of  Highland  Light  on  the 
north  and  Absecon  Light  at  Atlantic  City  on  the  south. 
But  this  effective  light  is  endangered  by  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  sea,  which  there  eats  away  fifteen  feet 
of  land  each  year.  The  structure  was  long  preserved 
by  the  building  of  jetties  that  have  succeeded  in  winning 

181 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

from  the  sea  new  protecting  deposits  of  sand,  but  a 
new  light  may  become  a  necessity. 

Below  Long  Beach  two  inlets  intervene  before 
Atlantic  City  is  reached — New  Inlet  and  Absecon  Inlet. 
Then  comes  the  narrow  island  on  which  is  built  the 
world's  most  popular  seaside  resort,  where  miles  of 
gentle  sloping  beach,  lined  by  eight  miles  of  boardwalk, 
provide  relaxation  for  the  tens  of  thousands  of  gay 
vacation-seekers  who  pour  out  from  princely  hotels, 
as  well  as  from  more  modest  caravanseries,  and  from 
cottages  by  the  thousand. 

It  is  difficult  for  those  who,  approaching  Atlantic 
City  across  the  marshes  from  Pleasantville,  see  the 
long  line  of  the  hostelries  that  shelter  so  many  people, 
to  realize  that  the  time  is  comparatively  short  since 
Atlantic  City  put  off  its  swaddling  clothes1. 

In  1734  a  "  Gentleman"  of  Egg  Harbor  willed 
"Absecond  Beach"  to  his  three  sons.  Evidently  he 
thought  there  was  value  in  the  strip  of  sand  ten  mile's 
long,  and  from  one-half  to  three-fourths  of  a  mile  wide. 

Not  until  1783  was  the  island  settled.  Jacob  Leeds, 
who  then  owned  most  of  the  land,  was  the  first  inhabit- 
ant. On  his  farm  was  a  cave,  in  which  deserters  found 
refuge  in  the  Revolution,  as  later  in  the  "War  of  1812. 

In  early  days  trips  were  made  by  people  from 
Philadelphia  and  the  towns  between  to  the  Absecond 
bathing  beach.  "Beach  Parties,"  these  pilgrimages 
were  called.  At  first  there  were  no  bath-houses;  the 
bather  was  content  to  dress  among  the  sand  hills. 
Later  bath-houses  were  built  of  brush,  but  without  a 
roof.  The  first  frame  bath-house  was  a  converted  wreck. 

As  early  as  1820  the  building  of  a  resort  on  the 

183 


DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 

island  was  talked  of.  Dr.  Jonathan  E.  Pitney,  a 
physician,  used  to  stroll  among  the  sand-hills  on  the 
beach.  Soon  he  surprised  his  friends  by  talking  of  a 
railroad  from  Philadelphia.  The  idea  seemed  absurd; 
how  could  a  railroad  through  the  pine  barrens,  with 
a  terminus  on  a  sand  spit,  be  made  to  pay? 

At  this  time  a  visitor  spoke  of  Absecon  Island  as 
"a  rough  looking  place,  the  sandhills  being  covered 
with  course,  stunted  grass,  mixed  with  trees.  There 
were  only  two  boarding  houses.  Some  of  the  best  land 
was  offered  at  $17.50  per  acre." 

"And  most  of  that  same  land  is  now  worth  one 
dollar  per  front  foot!"  wrote  an  astonished  man  in 
1883.  He  would  have  been  an  unbeliever  if  he  had 
been  told  of  the  fabulous  prices  paid  for  beach  property 
a  generation  later. 

The  railroad  from  Philadelphia  was  chartered  in 
1852.  Then  a  name  was  desired  for  the  new  resort  on 
Absecon.  Ocean  City,  Seabeach,  Surfing,  Strand,  and 
Bath  were  among  other  names  suggested.  When  Dr. 
Pitney  presented  to  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the 
railroad  the  plot  of  the  proposed  bathing  place,  they 
noted  the  name  Atlantic  City  written  on  it. 

The  first  excursion  was  run  on  July  1,  1854,  when 
there  were  six  hundred  passengers! 

Modern  excursionists  take  pleasure  in  the  journey 
by  motor-boat  along  the  waters  back  of  Atlantic  City, 
down  to  Great  Egg  Harbor  and  Ocean  City.  There 
they  are  on  water  made  famous  during  the  Revolution 
by  the  exploits  of  privateers  who  lay  in  wait  for  prizes 
between  the  Harbor  and  Cape  May.  One  of  these 
privateers  was  an  open  boat  called  The  Skunk,  with 

183 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

two  guns  and  twelve  men,  which  took  nine  prizes  in 
a  short  time. 

Cape  May,  the  southern  limit  of  the  excursions  of 
this  privateer,  which  also  marks  the  southern  boundary 
of  what  has  been  called  "the  world's  greatest  play- 
ground," was  named  for  Captain  Cornelius  Mey,  first 
director  of  the  New  Netherlands,  who,  in  1623,  sailed 
south  on  a  trip  of  exploration.  When  he  reached  the 
entrance  to  Delaware  Bay,  he  gave  his  name  to  the 
north  cape.  Modestly,  however,  he  called  the  south 
cape  Cornelius.  This  meant  self-denial,  for  he  had 
called  New  York  Port  Mey,  and  the  Delaware  New 
Port  Mey.  All  the  names  have  been  changed,  except 
that  of  the  north  cape. 

In  1630  Skipper  Peter  Heyssen  bought  from  the 
Indians  a  tract  of  land  four  miles  long  on  the  bay  from 
Cape  May  to  the  north,  and  extending  five  miles  inland. 
At  once  he  made  the  region  a  whaling  ground.  In 
1633,  in  a  single  day,  seven  whales  were  caught  near  by. 

In  1641  Sweden  bought  Cape  May,  and  in  1664  the 
English  were  in  control.  During  the  Eevolution  Cape 
May  became  well  known,  not  only  because  of  the  priva- 
teers, but  because  of  the  clams  which  the  inhabitants 
boiled  out,  dried  and  strung  for  transportation  to  the 
patriot  army. 

In  1812  the  first  Congress  Hall  was  built  on  what 
was  then  known  as  Cape  Island.  Other  hotels  followed. 
In  1845  it  was  said  that  "three  thousand  strangers 
annually  visit  the  place,  which  is  separated  by  a  small 
creek  from  the  mainland. " 

For  many  years  before  the  Civil  War  the  resort 
at  the  southern  limit  of  New  Jersey  was  popular  with 

184 


ON  TOMS  RIVER,  NEW  JERSEY 


DOWN  THE  NEW  JERSEY  COAST 

people  from  the  South  as  well  as  from  the  North.  Later 
its  popularity  was  temporarily  eclipsed  by  other  re- 
sorts, but  now  Cape  May  has  resumed  its'  proper  place, 
luring  by  the  thousand  visitors  who  have  learned  that, 
when  once  they  seek  the  Cape,  they  are  tempted  to 
return  year  after  year  to  the  spot  where  modest  Captain 
Mey  showed  the  way  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago-. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

A  COMPANY  of  travelers  in  a  railway  coach 
were  comparing  notes  about  New  Jersey. 
One  of  them,  with  the  assurance  frequently 
shown  by  those  whose  experience  has  been  more  or  less 
limited,  declared  emphatically : 

"New  Jersey  is  the  most  monotonous  state  in  the 
East.  I  have  crossed  it  a  dozen  times,  and  have  always 
found  the  experience  so  dreary  that  I  have  dreaded  to 
repeat  it.  Sand  and  scrub  pines  are  not  a  pleasant 
program  on  the  road." 

A  second  traveler  whose  experience  had  been  just 
as  limited  put  in  his  word : 

"I  have  found  miles  of  rough,  hilly  traveling  in 
New  Jersey,  and  I  advise  automobile  owners  to  avoid 
that  state  if  they  can.  It  is  true,  there  are  many  good 
roads,  but  the  grades  are  often  heavy,  and  the  difficul- 
ties are  many." 

"I,  too,  have  driven  across  New  Jersey  many 
times,"  said  a  third  man,  "but  I  have  not  found  it  mo- 
notonous, and  I  have  not  been  disturbed  by  the  pines. 
To  me  it  seems  a  very  commonplace  bit  of  country, 
not  in  any  respect  different  from  that  encountered  a 
dozen  times  in  the  course  of  a  journey  from  New  York 
to  St.  Louis — that  is,  except  for  the  broad  marshes 
that  must  be  crossed  before  it  is  possible  to  reach  the 
ferries  to  New  York  City." 

186 


CRANBERRY  BOG,  WEST  OF  MT.   PLEASANT,  NEW  JERSEY 


IN  THE  PINE  BARRENS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 


IN  THE  PINES,  LAKEWOOD,  NEW  JERSEY 


THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

Now  one  of  those  men  had  traversed  the  wonderful 
Pine  Barrens  south  of  the  center  of  the  state,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Mullica  River — a  region  of  fifteen 
hundred  square  miles  where  the  plant  growth  is  so 
abundant  and  so  varied  that  this  is  a  favorite  hunting 
ground  for  botanists ;  where  there  is  so  much  evidence 
that  this  part  of  the  state  was  once  an  island  in  the 
ocean  that  geologists  find  it  pleasant  to  go  there; 
where  there  are  so  many  bits  like  parts  of  Nantucket 
that  those  who  favor  the  Massachusetts  island  have 
learned  the  joys  of  walking  trips  in  this  abode  of  peace 
so  much  nearer  home ;  where  the  hunter  may  find  deer 
in  satisfying  numbers  and  the  photographers  may  see 
them  feeding  on  some  of  the  scrub  that  to  some  is  so 
uninviting;  where  there  is  an  acre  of  trees  in  whose 
tops  is  a  blue  heronry  that  makes  the  ornithologist  leap 
for  joy.  Many  lovers  of  the  wild  are  eager  to  have 
a  portion  of  these  Pine  Barrens  set  apart  as  a  State 
Reserve ;  they  long  to  see  preserved  for  future  genera- 
tions beauties  that  are  so  different  from  anything  else 
on  the  lower  Atlantic  Coast  that  they  have  attracted 
to  Lakewood,  in  the  upper  corner  of  the  region  of  pines, 
builders  of  stately  homes  as  well  as  seekers  for  health 
and  pleasure  who  delight  to  listen  to  the  wind  in  the 
tree  tops  or  to  wander  beside  Lake  Carasaljo,  that 
momento  of  a  father's  impartial  desire  to  commemorate 
the  fame  of  his  daughters  Carrie,  Sallie,  and  Josephine. 

The  route  of  the  man  who  had  found  mountains  and 
difficult  grades  in  his  crossing  of  New  Jersey,  was  in 
the  north,  where  the  Kittatinny  Mountain  comes  down 
to  the  Delaware,  bowing  low  at  the  Water  Gap  to  per- 
mit the  river  to  rush  through.  He  probably  passed 
within  hailing  distance  of  that  point  in  the  Blue 

187 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Mountains  called  the  Indian  Ladder,  where  the  Indians 
by  a  rude  tree  ladder  ascended  the  difficult  precipice 
that  hindered  access  to  the  country  back  from  the  river, 
and  where  the  first  white  settlers  used  a  rope  ladder 
for  the  like  purpose.  He  had,  no  doubt,  seen  Green- 
wood Lake,  in  its  setting  in  the  hills,  half  in  New  Jersey, 
half  in  New  York,  and  perhaps  he  had  passed  along 
the  shore  of  winding  Lake  Hopatcong,  which  was  called 
"the  great  pond"  in  an  advertisement  of  lands  to  be 
sold  at  public  vendue  in  1757.  When  he  passed 
through  a  country  that  is  like  a  bit  of  the  heart  of 
North  Carolina,  with  its  heights  and  valleys,  its  river 
gorges  cut  through  the  trap  rock,  its  cascades  and  falls 
like  those  which  furnish  both  beauty  and  water  power 
at  Paterson  and  Passiac.  Its  crowning  feature,  in 
the  opinion  of  many,  is  that  matchless  trap  ridge,  the 
Palisades,  which  for  twenty-five  miles  marks  the 
western  bank  of  the  Hudson  Biver.  This  was  a  favorite 
country  with  the  Indians.  Through  it  the  pioneer 
sought  the  Poconos,  and  the  Moravians  went  to  the 
Delaware,  while  Washington  and  his  colonial  troops 
marched  and  countermarched  there,  between  the  Del- 
aware, a  strategic  barrier  in  a  number  of  campaigns, 
Morristown,  which  still  proudly  shows  the  General's 
Headquarters,  and  the  Hudson  Biver,  where  Fort  Lee 
long  bade  defiance  to  the  British. 

The  third  man  who  that  day  on  the  railway  ex- 
pressed his  rather  unfavorable  opinion  of  New  Jersey 
scenery  crossed  one  of  the  most  delightful  sections  of 
a  state  which  includes  such  infinite  variety  that  those 
who  know  the  region  best  sometimes  wonder  if  it  is  pos- 
sible to  find  more  of  interest  and  appeal  in  any  other 
eight  thousand  square  miles  of  the  cotmtry  's  area.  He 

188 


THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

crossed  the  state  by  another  route  that  was  a  favorite 
path  in  colonial  days  and  in  the  Revolution,  beginning 
the  journey  close  to  the  boundary  between  the  lands 
of  Lord  Berkeley  and  those  of  Lord  Carteret — the 
East  and  West  sections  of  the  Province  of  New  Jersey. 
He  probably  crossed  the  Delaware  at  Trenton  Falls, 
scene  of  the  fishing  party  in  1767  when  Benjamin 
Franklin  and  Governor  Banning  Wentworth  of  New 
Hampshire  watched  their  lines  and  swapped  yarns. 
He  was  then  near  the  spot  that,  in  1784  and  for  some 
years  later  was  seriously  considered  by  Congress  as 
a  site  for  the  permanent  capital  of  the  United  States. 
He  went  to  Trenton,  scene  of  Washington's  famous 
victory  over  the  British  and  of  that  later  engagement 
named  by  a  writer  of  the  time  ' '  the  cannonade  at  Trent 
Town/'  William  Trent,  who  gave  his  name  to  the 
town,  and  later  became  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  Province,  which  had  its  session  there, 
surely  would  have  been  astonished  if  he  could  have  seen 
the  modern  city  with  its  dominating  gilt  dome  of 
the  capitol. 

From  Trenton  to  Princeton  the  route  is  not  only 
of  great  charm  but  is  also  full  of  historic  memories. 
Those  miles  were  stubbornly  contested  by  the  rival 
forces  of  the  Crown  and  the  Colonies.  Lawrenceville, 
named  for  the  naval  hero  who  pleaded  with  his  men, 
" Don't  Give  up  the  Ship,"  was  known  as  Maidenhead 
to  the  troops  who  passed  that  way,  some  of  them  to 
the  Battle  of  Princeton.  The  ridge  road  between 
Lawrenceville  and  Princeton  crosses  Stony  Brook 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  site  of  the  battle,  "which 
in  the  short  space  of  half  an  hour,  decided  the  fate  of 

189 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  United  States,"  and  near  by  is  the  house — still 
standing — where  General  Mercer  died. 

That  ride  from  Lawrenceville  to  Princeton,  with  its 
view  to  the  lowlands  north  and  south,  is  anything  but 
commonplace.  It  passes  through  rolling  meadows  and 
green  woodlands  which  seem  to  say,  "Linger  with  us," 
and  it  leads  to  a  town  which  combines  the  charm  of  an 
English  university  village  and  the  freshness  and  vigor 
of  an  American  educational  center.  From  the  Gradu- 
ate College,  whose  graceful  tower  rises  high  above  the 
trees  and  is  reflected  in  the  mirror  of  the  water  close 
at  hand,  to  the  elm-shaded  campus,  where  the  central 
feature  is  Nassau  Hall,  the  town  is  a  dream  of  beauty. 

The  story  of  Nassau  Hall,  marvel  of  the  colonies, 
is  told  in  a  tablet  near  the  entrance  door : 

"This  building,  erected  in  1756  by  the  college  of  New 
Jersey,  and  named  Nassau  Hall  in  honor  of  King 
William  III,  was  seized  by  British  forces  for  military 
purposes  in  1776,  and  retaken  by  the  American  Army 
January  3,  1777.  Here  Congress  met  from  June  30, 
1783,  until  November  4,  1783,  and  here,  August  20, 
1783,  General  Washington  received  the  grateful  ac- 
knowledgments of  the  Congress  for  his  service  in 
establishing  the  freedom  and  independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America. " 

And  in  this  historic  building,  at  the  commencement 
of  1783,  Ashbel  Green,  the  Valedictorian,  turned  to 
General  Washington,  and  made  his  prophecy  of  the 
days  when  the  deeds  of  the  patriots  should  be  told : 

"Never  in  that  day,  illustrious  and  magnanimous 
chief,  shall  thy  actions  and  thy  exploits  be  unrecorded. 
Some  future  bard,  whom  all  the  muses  love — oh,  that 

190 


FORD  MANSION,   MORRISTCTWN,   NEW  JERSEY 
Washington's    Headquarters 


THE    GRADUATE    COLLEGE,    PRINCETON,    NEW    JERSEY 


«          J*» 


THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

it  might  be  some  happy  son  of  Nassau  Hall! — shall 
tell  in  all  the  majesty  of  epic  song,  the  man  whose 
prudent  conduct,  and  whose  gallant  sword,  taught  the 
tyrants  of  the  earth  to  fear  oppression,  and  opened  an 
asylum  for  the  virtuous,  free  to  all  the  world.  But — 
adventurous  bard^  whoever  thou  art,  beware!  Leave 
poetic  fiction  and  ornament  to  those  whose  theme  re- 
quires it;  the  greatest  panegyric  of  my  hero  is  his 
true  character." 

"The  War  Path  of  the  Revolution"  leads  on  from 
Princeton,  close  to  the  waters  of  the  Delaware  and 
Raritan  Canal,  which  was  constructed  more  than  a 
generation  after  the  close  of  the  Revolution,  and  within 
view  of  the  distant  ridge  of  hills  that  dips  gracefully 
to  the  valley  near  Bound  Brook,  making  place  for  the 
rugged  country  whose  central  feature  is  Chimney  Rock 
favorite  resort  of  the  residents  of  Plainfield. 

Past  Bound  Brook  from  the  northwest  flows  the 
winding  Raritan — called  by  a  traveler  of  1775  the  Ra- 
rington.  On  the  banks  of  this,  the  largest  river 
altogether  within  New  Jersey,  at  picturesque  New 
Brunswick,  ancient  Rutgers  College  has  its  seat.  From 
there  the  stream  flows  smoothly  on,  soon  widening  for 
its  entrance  to  Raritan  Bay,  to  Perth  Amboy,  called 
Perth  Town  by  the  Proprietor  of  New  Jersey,  who 
planned  a  settlement  which  should  be  "the  most  con- 
siderable in  these  parts."  New  York  soon  distanced 
Perth  Town  in  importance,  but  the  settlement  on  Ambo 
Point  became  the  seat  of  tho  Proprietor's  Government, 
as  it  was  later  the  capital  of  the  royal  province. 

From  the  Raritan  at  New  Brunswick  the  old  route 
across  this  charming  section  of  New  Jersey  passes  on 

191 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

to  Elizabeth,  famous  from  colonial  days,  and  to  New- 
ark, the  splendid  manufacturing  » city  that  stands 
between  the  highlands  that  look  to  the  interior  and  the 
marshlands  that  look  toward  New  York  City.  These 
Hackensack  marshes — a  "glacial  scoop, "  the  geologist 
calls  them — crossed  in  many  directions  by  highways 
and  railroads  bound  for  the  city  by  the  Hudson,  are  of 
perennial  interest.  Many  who  traverse  them  daily 
never  weary  of  the  stretch  that  to  others  seem  monoto- 
nous. The  varied  vegetation  of  catkins  and  reed 
grasses,  wind-blown,  dipped  in  the  waters  of  the  tide, 
the  intersecting  tidal  creeks,  the  lonely  cabins  of 
fishermen  and  the  masts  of  catboats,  combine  to  make 
a  picture  of  agreeable  flatness,  surprisingly  relieved 
by  rocky  Snake  Hill,  which  was  the  central  feature  of 
Mount  Pinhorne,  the  estate  of  William  Pinhorne,  re- 
tired statesman  from  the  growing  town  across  the  tide. 
And  nothing  has  been  said  of  Paterson,  which 
Alexander  Hamilton  tried  vainly  to  develop  as  a  man- 
ufacturing center,  only  to  be  compelled  to  leave  the 
opportunity  for  later  and  more  successful  men ;  of  that 
group  of  suburbs  near  Newark  that  invite  the  city 
dweller  to  the  shadow  of  the  hill  and  the  music  of  the 
stream;  of  Phillipsburg,  from  the  brow  of  a  hill  com- 
manding the  Delaware  where  it  is  at  the  best ;  of  Salem, 
where  the  English  attempted  a  settlement  in  1841;  of 
Camden,  the  home  of  Walt  Whitman,  a  city  which 
deserves  to  receive  more  attention  than  is  given  to  it  by 
visitors  to  the  larger  city  across  the  Delaware;  of 
Bordentown,  long  the  retreat  of  Joseph  Bonaparte  in 
his  exile ;  of  Cranbury,  where  David  Brainerd  preached 
to  the  Indians ;  of  Freehold,  where  the  battle  of  Mon- 
102 


THE  VIVID  CONTRASTS  OF  NEW  JERSEY 

month  Court  House  was  fought  with  the  British;  of 
Vineland,  whose  grove  to  those  who  died  in  the  Great 
War  has  been  called  by  the  American  Forestry  Asso- 
ciation "the  most  unique  natural  monument  in  the 
United  States ;"  of  scores  of  other  towns  and  cities 
whose  names  have  deserved  a  place  in  the  annals  of 
the  artist,  the  historian  and  the  tourist. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
ON  DELAWARE  >S  WESTERN  SHORE 

HOW  did  Delaware  happen?    The  question  comes 
spontaneously  to  those  who  look  at  its  curious 
boundaries  and  slender  proportions,  from  the 
circular  northern  line  which  takes  an  inconvenient  bite 
out  of  Pennsylvania,  to  the  southwestern  right  angle 
that  is  such  an  inconsequential  stopping  place.    Why 
doesn  ?t  the  boundary  go  on  at  least  as  far  as  the  present 
southern  line  of  Maryland?    What  is  the  logic  of  the 
line  that  bisects  the  peninsula  between  Delaware  Bay 
and  Chesapeake  Bay? 

There  is  nothing  logical  in  Delaware's  boundaries. 
But  there  is  romantic  history  behind  every  line,  history 
that  tells  of  the  Swedes  and  the  Dutch  and  the  English ; 
of  jealousy  between  Proprietors  and  of  conflicting 
grants  from  the  English  Crown;  of  the  desire  of  the 
Duke  of  York  that  William  Penn  should  have  control 
of  the  navigation  of  the  Delaware ;  of  endless  disputes 
and  compromises.  The  last  of  these  disputes  was  not 
finally  settled  until  1889,  when  a  Joint  Commission  from 
Maryland  and  Delaware  drew  a  curve  from  the  spire 
of  New  Castle  Courthouse,  with  a  radius  of  twelve 
miles,  marking  the  northern  boundary.  Even  this 
action  was  a  compromise;  for  it  was  found  that  a  true 
arc  would  take  from  Delaware  land  which  she  had  cher- 
ished as  her  own  for  nearly  two  hundred  years.  So  a 
compound  curve  brought  the  solution  of  a  difficulty  that 
had  continued  since  1701, 

104 


ON  DELAWARE'S  WESTERN  SHORE 

There  is  within  the  circular  boundary  line  so  much 
of  charming  hill  and  dale  that  the  wanderer  afield  begins 
to  wonder  if  that  line  was  not  drawn  by  a  lover  of 
nature,  a  kindred  spirit  of  Bayard  Taylor,  who  de- 
lighted to  take  jaunts  from  his  home  just  over  the 
Pennsylvania  line  to  the  streams  and  the  hills  of  the 
country  northeast  of  Wilmington.  He  never  wearied 
of  the  landscape  in  the  Hockessin  Valley,  and  those  who 
follow  in  his  footsteps  will  not  need  to  question  why. 

There  are  hills  and  woodlands  in  the  north,  and 
there  are  swift  streams  that  supply  abundant  water 
power.  Farther  south  there  are  more  sluggish  streams 
as  well  as  much  tidal  marshland.  In  the  extreme  south 
there  is  a  cypress  swamp  more  than  seventy  square 
miles  in  extent.  Along  the  streams  and  in  the  valleys 
are  scenes  that  make  the  visitor  from  England  think 
of  some  of  the  best  of  the  rural  scenery  of  that  country. 
Early  English  residents  left  evidences  of  their  appre- 
ciation of  this  fact  in  the  names  they  gave  to  the  three 
counties  of  Delaware:  New  Castle,  Kent  and  Sussex. 
The  town  that  was  to  become  the  capital  they  called 
Dover,  and  the  primary  political  divisions  they  called 
hundreds  instead  of  townships. 

History  as  well  as  scenery  begin  as  soon  as  the 
state  is  entered  from  the  north.  On  the  Delaware,  a 
little  below  the  boundary  line,  is  Grubb's  Landing,  now 
a  memory,  but  in  colonial  days  a  shipping  point  of 
importance.  During  the  Revolution  the  British  found 
it  a  favorable  landing  place  for  sloops. 

Not  far  away  there  is  a  creek — Naaman's  Creek — 
that  flows  down  toward  the  bay  after  passing  a  house 
that  dates  from  the  coming  of  the  Swedes,  with  a 
block-house  near  by  that  was  built  in  1654.  Close  to 

195 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

the  house  was,  until  recently,  an  old  bridge  erected  in 
1802,  on  the  site  of  an  earlier  bridge  over  which 
Washington  passed  with  his  army  in  1777,  when  on  his 
way  to  intercept  the  British.  The  development  of  the 
region  for  manufacturing  purposes  during  the  Great 
War  threatened  the  existence  of  these  old  landmarks  ; 
passengers  on  the  railroad  and  tourists  who  crossed 
the  bridge  on  the  way  to  Washington  thought  regret- 
fully of  the  time  when  this  glory  of  historic  Delaware 
may  be  sacrificed. 

But,  fortunately,  there  is  a  spirit  in  Delaware  that 
leads  to  strenuous  efforts  to  save  such  survivals  as 
those  at  Naanian's  Creek.  Witness  the  protests  made 
in  Wilmington  to  protect  the  quaint  structure  of  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  built  in  1740,  whose  site 
was  coveted,  since  it  was  in  the  heart  of  the  business 
district.  The  problem  was  finally  solved  when  the 
Delaware  Societies  of  the  Colonial  Dames  and  the 
Colonial  Wars  arranged  for  the  removal  of  the  brick 
structure  to  Brandywine  Drive. 

Wilmington,  long  called  Willington,  has  been  spoken 
of  as  the  Plymouth  Bock  of  Delaware,  for  the  city 
marks  the  site  where  the  Swedes,  attracted  by  the  hills, 
first  landed.  It  has  been  said  of  the  city  that  it  is  l  i  as 
full  of  lumps  as  a  napkin  thrown  over  a  blackberry 
bush!."  In  1638  the  Swedes  and  Finns  erected  Fort 
Christiana  near  the  mouth  of  the  Christiana  Creek. 

Wilmington  has  not  only  Christiana  Creek,  but  it 
has  the  Brandywine,  which  was  valued  for  its  water 
power  even  in  1729,  when  there  were  two  mills  near 
the  mouth  of  the  stream.  In  1764  there  were  eight 
mills.  In  colonial  days  these  were  the  main  dependence 
of  Washington's  army  for  wheat  Then,  for  fear  they 

196 


IN  COOL  SPRING  PARK,  WILMINGTON,  DELAWARE 


THE  OLD  RODNEY  HOUSE  NEAR  DOVER,  DELAWARE 
(The  Rear  Wing  is  the  Original   House) 


READ  HOUSE,  NEW  CASTLE,  DELAWARE 
From  the  Garden 


ON  DELAWARE'S  WESTERN  SHORE 

would  be  of  like  use  to  the  British,  Washington  ordered 
that  they  be  dismantled,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  the 
landing  of  the  army  of  the  enemy  at  the  Head  of  Elk 
on  the  Chesapeake,  so  near  at  hand. 

The  landing  of  the  British  led  to  another  historic 
incident.  On  Sept.  3, 1777,  the  outposts  of  the  Colonial 
army  and  the  advance  guard  of  the  British  army 
clashed  at  Cooch's  Bridge,  on  Little  Christiana,  six 
miles  below  Wilmington.  During  this  skirmish  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  were  first  unfurled  in  battle.  A  mon- 
ument near  the  site  of  Cooch's  Bridge  tells  the  story. 

A  short  trip  from  Cooch's  Bridge  brings  the 
traveler  to  New  Castle,  an  old-world  town,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Delaware,  at  a  point  where  the  stream  widens 
perceptibly  in  its  majestic  advance  to  the  sea.  Here 
the  Dutch  built  Fort  Casimir  in  1651.  The  town  fol- 
lowed in  1655 ;  two  years  later  it  was  called  New  Amstel. 
Then  167  people  came  from  Amsterdam  to  settle  there, 
relying  on  the  promise  of  the  mother  city  to  give  them 
passage  across  the  ocean,  lay  out  the  town,  and  supply 
a  schoolmaster. 

Max  Adeler  called  New  Castle  "the  only  finished 
town  in  America. "  It  is  a  beautiful  place,  with  its 
old  trees,  its  village  Green,  its  wealth  of  colonial  houses 
which  show  a  bewildering  variety  of  entrance  doors 
and  other  equally  charming  features,  its  surviving 
Dutch  house  on  the  Green,  the  court-house,  part  of  it 
built  in  1676,  and  its  ancient  Episcopal  and  Presbyte- 
rian churches. 

Neighbor  to  the  ancient  churches  of  New  Castle 
Was  the  near-by Pencader  church,  in Pencader  Hundred, 
organized  in  1710,  which  took  its  name  from  the  title 

197 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

given  by  the  Welsh  settlers  to  Iron  Hill,  the  "highest 
seat."  In  early  days  iron  was  mined  in  the  hill. 

To  the  north  of  Iron  Hill  is  Newark,  the  ancient 
town  has  been  famous  for  educational  institutions  since 
the  organization  there,  in  1767,  of  the  Newark  Academy, 
which  survived  for  many  years  after  Delaware  College, 
now  the  University  of  Delaware,  was  established.  The 
white-columned  buildings  of  the  college  are  a  striking 
feature  of  the  street  that  was  long,  the  only  street  of  the 
town.  At  one  time  this  street  inspired  a  schoolboy  to 
write:  "Newark  has  for  fifty  years  been  increasing 
at  both  ends,  and,  should  this  increase  continue,  owing 
to  the  rotundity  of  the  earth,  the  two  ends  will  in  the 
course  of  a  few  thousand  years  meet. ' ' 

The  people  of  Newark  were  interested  as  early  as 
1767  in  a  project  to  dig  a  canal  from  the  Delaware  to 
the  Chesapeake.  Early  surveys  called  for  a  canal  that 
would  have  passed  close  to  Newark.  The  first  attempt, 
begun  in  1804,  was  a  failure  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
Benjamin  H.  Latrobe,  later  the  architect  of  the  Capitol 
at  Washington,  was  in  charge  of  construction.  The 
money  subscribed  was  exhausted  in  building  a  reservoir 
to  be  fed  from  Elk  River. 

The  Delaware  and  Chesapeake  Canal  was  finally 
completed,  a  little  farther  south,  in  1829.  The  begin- 
ning of  the  thirteen-mile  course  is  at  Delaware  City, 
which  was  called  Newbold's  Landing  until  the  prospect 
of  the  coming  of  the  canal  led  to  the  booming  of  a  new 
town  and  the  building  of  ten  houses — an  achievement 
celebrated  by  the  feeding  of  all  comers  at  an  immense 
table  in  the  street  a  full  block  long. 

It  is  remarkable  that  when,  in  1907,  a  commission 
appointed  by  the  President  to  recommend  a  route  from 

108 


ON  DELAWARE'S  WESTERN  SHORE 

the  Chesapeake  to  the  Delaware,  the  old  canal  was 
named,  in  accordance  with  the  word  of  a  far-sighted 
man  who,  in  1804,  spoke  of  this  canal  as  * ( a  possible  link 
of  interior  communication  along  the  coasts  of  the  United 
States,  which  has  often  been  contemplated." 

There  were  towns  in  Delaware  that  did  not  wait 
for  canals  to  take  advantage  of  the  little  streams  that 
led  to  the  Delaware.  One  of  these  was  Cantwell's 
Bridge,  so  called  because  of  a  tollbridge  over  a  little 
stream  that  was  deep  enough  to  carry  a  goodly  com- 
merce. In  1825  the  town  was  a  shipping  point  of  note. 
Granaries  were  built  on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  and 
grain  for  shipment  was  brought  from  points  many  miles 
around.  In  1855  the  grain  trade  was  such  an  important 
element  in  the  town's  prosperity  that  the  citizens 
changed  the  name  to  Odessa,  in  the  proud  belief  that 
this  port  was  worthy  to  be  classed  with  Odessa,  on  the 
Black  Sea.  Almost  at  once,  however,  pride  had  a  fall; 
the  railroad  passed  that  way,  and  Odessa,  confident  in 
her  water  f  acilities,  refused  to  give  it  needed  encourage- 
ment. The  track  was  built  to  the  westward,  Middle  town 
soon  sprang  up,  and  the  prosperity  of  Odessa  became 
a  memory. 

Names  from  the  Near  East  were  almost  as  popular 
in  early  Delaware  as  names  of  places  in  England.  To 
the  south  of  Odessa  is  a  town  known  originally  as  Duck 
Creek  Cross  Eoads,  though  later  it  became  Smyrna. 

Between  Smyrna  and  the  Delaware  is  a  decayed 
village,  "Wapping,  whose  first  settlers  evidently  thought 
with  longing  of  the  section  of  London  of  that  name. 
More  fortunate  than  they  were  those  who  chose  the 
English  name  Dover  for  the  town  that,  in  1777,  became 
the  capital  -of  Delaware. 

199 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Dover  is  like  a  bit  of  Kent  in  England.  Here,  too, 
there  is  a  central  Green.  On  this  fronts  the  old  State 
House,  which  dates  from  1787.  Near  at  hand  is  the 
ancient  whipping-post.  This  post  stood  on  that  day 
in  1776  when  Caesar  Rodney  led  the  citizens  who  took 
the  portrait  of  George  III  from  the  courthouse  and 
burned  it  on  the  Green. 

Dover  has  another  claim  to  fame.  Past  there  to 
the  Delaware  flows  the  St.  Jones  River,  which  might 
well  be  called  Snake  River;  the  distance  as  a  bird  flies 
is  but  eight  miles,  but  the  tortuous  course  of  the  stream 
is  seventeen  miles.  For  more  than  a  century  the 
farmers  of  the  vicinity  have  been  talking  of  straight- 
ening the  crooked  river,  which  IB  navigable  for 
small  steamers. 

Streams  in  Delaware  are  noted  for  other  things 
than  crooks  and  turns.  Some  of  them  have  names  as 
crooked  as  their  courses.  There  is  the  Appoquinnimink, 
near  Glasgow,  and  there  is  the  Mispillion,  on  whose 
banks  Milf  ord  was  founded  in  1680,  close  to  the  holdings 
of  merchants  from  Barbadoes  who  were  taking  pail  in 
a  land  speculation  in  Milf  ord  Hundred. 

A  few  miles  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  Mispillion, 
Delaware  Bay,  which  receives  its  waters,  gives 
way  to  the  broad  Atlantic.  Near  the  point  that  looks 
up  toward  the  Delaware  River,  and  out  on  the  ocean, 
Lewes  has  its  site.  The  town  was  a  little  fishing  hamlet 
when  it  won  lasting  fame  in  1813.  On  April  6  of  that 
year  a  British  blockading  fleet  arrived  off  the  town. 
The  commander  needed  provisions.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  do  more  than  make 
his  desire  known.  Did  he  not  have  plenty  of  guns? 
So  he  wrote  to  the  town's  first  magistrate,  stating  his 

200 


ON  DELAWARE'S  WESTERN  SHORE 

wants,  and  saying,  "If  you  refuse  to  comply,  I  shall 
be  under  the  necessity  of  destroying  your  town." 

Yet  the  doughty  "first  magistrate"  sent  word  to 
the  governor,  who  went  to  Lewes  and  encouraged  it  in 
its  defence.  The  legislature  appropriated  $2000  for 
the  expense  of  the  game  of  bluif  the  town  was  playing. 
The  town  possessed  only  two  eighteen-pounders,  though 
there  were  no  ball  for  them.  There  were  two  nine- 
pounders,  but  the  ball  provided  for  these  were  too 
large.  And  there  were  but  fifteen  casks  of  powder. 

The  attack  began.  The  result  must  have  punctured 
the  pride  of  the  British  commander.  For  as  fast  as  he 
fired  balls  ashore,  they  were  picked  up  and  fired  back. 

The  damage  inflicted  on  the  town  was  but  two  thou- 
sand dollars.  As  the  local  wag  said : 

"The  Commander  and  all  his  nan, 
Shot  a  dog  and  killed  a  hen." 

After  twenty-two  hours  cannonading,  the  fleet  with- 
drew— five  launches,  two  sloops,,  a  motor  boat,  a  pilot 
boat,  a  schooner  and  a  frigate ! 

Today  Lewes  is  known  to  navigation  because 
of  the  Delaware  Breakwater,  begun  in  1818,  and 
the  Harbor  of  Eefuge,  built  between  1897  and  1911, 
where  storm-tossed  ships  seek  safety  in  the  pro- 
tected anchorage. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PHILADELPHIA,  BIRTHPLACE  OF  THE 
NATION 

THERE  is  a  garden  in  Philadelphia  where  visit- 
ors are  shown  a  series  of  remarkable  stepping 
stones.  One  stone  was  brought  from  the 
scene  of  the  battle  of  Germantown,  while  its  neighbor 
came  from  historic  Brandywine.  Other  stones  were 
found  on  General  Wolfe's  pathway  to  the  Plains  of 
Abraham  at  Quebec;  on  the  site  of  America's  first 
paper  mill,  built  by  William  Rittenhouse,  close  to  the 
banks  of  the  Wissahickon;  and  at  Washington's  Head- 
quarters at  Chadds  Ford.  The  homes  of  William  Penn 
and  Anthony  Wayne  likewise  contributed  to  the  storied 
pathway,  while  Valley  Forge  helped  to  complete  the 
remarkable  series  of  stepping  stones. 

But  Philadelphia  offers  to  visitors  a  far  more 
remarkable  and  satisfactory  pathway  than  that  in  the 
garden  of  the  historian — more  remarkable  because  it 
speaks  with  greater  eloquence  of  history;  more  satis- 
factory because  it  is  marked  not  merely  by  bits  of 
stones  associated  with  great  events,  but  by  the  sites 
and  frequently  the  shrines  where  history  was  made. 
Each  year  this  pathway  is  trodden  reverently  by  tens 
of  thousands  of  pilgrims  who  find  in  the  square  mile 
of  territory  between  Philadelphia's  rivers,  in  the  heart 
of  the  city,  one  of  the  world's  most  remarkable  nests 
of  antiquities.  An  afternoon's  jaunt  is  ample  for  a 
hasty  tour  past  these  memorials  of  a  glorious  past, 

202 


THE    PARKWAY,    PHILADELPHIA,    SCHUYLKILL    RIVER    AND 
FAIRMOUNT    PARK    IN    THE    DISTANCE 
(From  the  Tower  of  the  City  Hall) 


PHILADELPHIA,  BIRTHPLACE  OF  THE  NATION 

but  many  afternoons  may  well  be  filled  with  inspection 
of  the  buildings  that  still  triumph  over  the  genius  for 
destruction  which  has  laid  low  so  many  priceless  relics 
of  the  days  gone  by. 

Down  near  the  Delaware  quaint  Old  Swedes  Church 
speaks  of  the  days  of  1700,  while  not  far  away  St. 
Peter's  Church  and  Old  Pine  Street  Church,  relics  of 
Revolutionary  times,  stand  with  august  dignity  among 
the  clustering  gravestones.  Within  a  short  distance 
Carpenters  Hall,  meeting  place  of  the  first  Continental 
Congress,  peeps  out  from  its  hiding  place  amid  the  tall 
structures  of  commerce.  Less  than  two  squares  distant 
the  most  glorious  structure  in  America,  Independence 
Hall,  looks  down  with  quiet  dignity  on  crowded  Chest- 
nut Street  and  the  quaint  " State  House  Yard"  that 
can  never  quite  lose  its  touch  with  the  days  of  the  past 
when  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  read  from  a 
scaffolding  erected  there  by  the  Philosophic  Society 
for  the  convenience  of  those  who  would  observe  the 
Transit  of  Venus.  From  the  yard  the  door  opens  in- 
vitingly on  the  mute  Liberty  Bell,  resting  in  its  glass 
case  where  all  can  read  the  prophetic  inscription  and 
see  the  great  crack  which  iconoclasts  have  proposed  to 
heal  by  electric  welding.  And  up  the  stairs,  above 
the  bell,  are  the  priceless  relics  of  Washington  and  of 
Congress,  as  well  as  the  portraits  of  the  Signers  and 
other  men  thought  worthy  to  keep  company  with  them. 
Step  softly  there,  and  linger  quietly  in  the  halls  where 
walked  the  intrepid  men  who  gave  America  a  place 
among  the  nations ! 

By  the  side  of  Independence  Hall  is  Congress  Hall, 
the  Capitol  of  the  United  States  from  1790  to  1800, 
where  Washington  was  inaugurated  in  1793,  and  where 

203 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

later  he  read  his  Farewell  Address.  Only  three  squares 
distant  is  the  first  United  States  Bank,  built  in  1797, 
while  it  is  but  a  short  distance  to  Christ  Church,  built 
in  1727.  There  the  great  street  window  shares  atten- 
tion with  the  tomb  of  Robert  Morris  in  the  churchyard 
and  the  pews  of  George  Washington  and  Betsy  Ross. 

The  house  of  Betsy  Ross  where — so  it  is  claimed — 
the  first  American  flag  was  made,  is  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  Christ  Church,  while  less  than  three  squares 
farther  on  is  the  old  graveyard  where  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin was  buried.  Old  Quaker  meeting  houses  are  near 
neighbors  of  the  Colonial  Philosopher's  grave,  while 
a  little  to  the  south,  on  Market  street,  are  marked  the 
sites  of  George  Washington's  residence  in  Philadelphia 
when  he  was  President,  and  the  house  where  Thomas 
Jefferson  drafted  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

The  next  halting  place  in  the  historic  pathway  is  at 
the  Post  Office,  where  the  statue  of  Benjamin  Franklin 
marks  what  is  supposed  to  be  the  place  where  he  flew 
the  kite  that  put  him  on  speaking  terms  with  electricity. 
From  there  it  is  but  ten  minutes'  walk  to  the  building 
of  the  Library  Company  of  Philadelphia,  founded  by 
Franklin  in  1731,  the  first  circulating  library  in  Amer- 
ica, William  Penn's  desk  and  clock  and  Franklin's 
electric  machine  repose  within  the  walls  that  are  near 
neighbors  to  the  Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania, 
with  its  remarkable  collection  of  relics,  including  the 
wampum  belt  given  to  William  Penn  by  the  Indians; 
George  Washington's  desk,  used  when  he  was  Presi- 
dent; John  Paul  Jones'  sword;  Anthony  Wayne's 
sword;  Abraham  Lincoln's  office  furniture  and  law 
books;  and  the  autograph  manuscripts  of  the  "Star- 

204 


CHRIST  CHURCH,  PHILADELPHIA 
Where  Washington  went  to  Church 
Erected  1727;  tower  built  in  1752 


WASHINGTON'S   HEADQUARTERS,    VALLEY   FORGE,    PENNSYLVANIA 


THE    WASHINGTON    MEMORIAL    CHAPEL,    VALLEY    FORGE,    PENNSYLVANIA 


PHILADELPHIA,  BIRTHPLACE  OF  THE  NATION 

Spangled  Banner,  "Home.  Sweet  Home,"  and  "Hail 
Columbia. ' ' 

Now  is  a  good  time  to  pass  to  the  City  Hall,  built 
on  the  site  of  the  camp  the  army  of  Washington  and 
Rochambeau  made  on  the  way  to  Yorktown  in  1781. 
The  central  feature  of  the  building  is  the  great  tower, 
surmounted  by  the  statue  of  William  Penn,  whose  hat 
is  548  feet  high.  An  elevator  whisks  the  visitor  to 
the  base  of  the  statue,  where  he  can  look  out  on  Old 
Philadelphia,  marveling  at  the  neighborliness  of  all 
that  he  has  seen ;  over  to  West  Philadelphia,  where  loco- 
motives onoe  waited  for  freight  cars  drawn  by  mules 
and  passenger  cars  drawn  by  more  mules  from  the 
Delaware  River  to  the  region  across  the  SchuylMll; 
down  the  Delaware  to  its  confluence  with  the  SchuylMll, 
where  is  located  the  country's  greatest  naval  station, 
League  Island ;  up  the  Delaware,  where  modern  vessels 
travel  unconsciously  in  the  pathway  of  John  Fitch's 
first  steamboat  experiments ;  up  the  Schuylkill  toward 
Gernmntown,  with  its  memorials  of  the  Revolution, 
and  Chestnut  Hill,  the  beautiful ;  out  the  great  Parkway, 
that  leads  from  the  heart  of  the  city  to  wonderful 
Fairmount,  the  largest  park  in  the  world,  with  its 
famous  Wissahickon  Drive,  where  a  brawling  stream 
leaps  between  leafy  banks  far  down  in  a  gorge  that 
might  be  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness  instead  of  within 
a  great  city;  and,  finally,  on  to  the  wooded  hills  and 
valleys  to  the  west,  where  cluster  some  of  America's 
loveliest  suburbs,  paving  the  way  to  Valley  Forge, 
where  Washington's  heroes  endured  the  dreadful  win- 
ter of  1777-1778. 

There,  in  the  midst  of  a  gloriously  beautiful  natural 
park,  the  Headquarters  of  Washington  are  preserved, 

205 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

as  well  as  the  old  entrenchments,  and  the  replica  of 
one  of  the  log  huts  in  which  the  soldiers  lived,  built 
according  to  specifications  laid  down  in  records  of 
long  ago. 

But  the  greatest  feature  of  the  park  by  the  Schuyl- 
kill  is  the  Washington  Memorial  Chapel,  whose  Gothic 
walls  and  marvelous  windows  provide'  fit  enclosure  for 
the  memorials  of  the  great  leader  who  inspired  his 
men  with  the  patriotic  devotion  that  led  three  thousand 
of  them  to  yield  their  lives  during  the  storms  of  that 
dreadful  winter,  and  other  thousands  who  survived  to 
risk  their  lives  in  the  campaigns  that  followed. 

The  Memorial  Chapel  is  the  central  feature  of  the 
park,  and  the  central  feature  of  the  chapel  is  the  altar 
on  whose  steps  have  been  cut  the  lines  of  Tennyson: 

His  work   is   done; 
But  while  the  race  of  mankind  endure, 

Let  his  great  example  stand 

Colossal,  seen  of  every  land, 
And  keep  the  soldier  firm,  the  statesman  pure, 

Till  in  all  lands,  and  thro'  all  human  story, 

The  path  of  duty  be  the  way  of  glory. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 

NOT  only  is  the  surface  of  Pennsylvania  more 
diversified  than  that  of  any  other  state  west 
of  the  Rockies,  but  it  has  within  its  borders  a 
section  of  the  mountains  wider  than  that  in  any  other 
state  from  Maine  to  Alabama.  The  Alleghenies  in  the 
central  portion  and  an  extension  of  the  Blue  Ridge  from 
the  Gettysburg  region  northeast  to  the  Delaware  River 
provide  enough  summits  and  plateaus  and  valleys  to 
startle  the  visitor  who  has  had  the  notion  that  the  state 
has  in  it  comparatively  little  scenic  grandeur. 

Yet  there  are  summits  like  Blue  Knob,  in  Bedford 
County,  3,136  feet  high,  and  Big  Bald  Knob,  on  the  line 
of  Somerset  and  Bedford  counties,  around  3,000  feet 
above  the  sea,  There  are  towns  on  the  plateaus  that 
are  two  thousand  feet  high  and  more,  and  there  is,  in 
the  middle  of  the  state,  an  area  of  about  two  thousand 
square  miles  where  the  barometer  indicates  an  altitude 
of  two  thousand  feet. 

Geologists  find  these  Pennsylvania  highlands  a 
field  of  perennial  interest.  The  upheavals  and  the 
erosions  that  have  shaped  the  mountains  and  the 
valley  have  exposed  the  rocks  in  fascinating  fashion. 
Rocks  that  at  Emporium  or  Driftwood  in  north  central 
Pennsylvania  are  as  much  as  five  miles  below  the 
surface,  are  so  near  the  surface  in  the  Nittany  Valley, 

207 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

only  a  short  distance  to  the  southeast,  that  it  is  there 
possible  to  study  the  earliest  stratified  rocks  of  the 
region.  This  is  especially  true  near  State  College. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  hour's  walk  above  Lock 
Haven,  on  the  West  Branch  of  the  Susquehanna,  the 
stroller  can  examine  all  the  rocks  in  succession  from 
the  Silurian  to  the  coal  measures.  An  even  fuller  dis- 
closure awaits  the  pedestrian  who  will  pass  leisurely 
from  Salona  on  the  Bellefonte  Central  Eailroad 
through  the  gap  to  Mill  Hall,  to  Lock  Haven,  and  from 
there  up  the  river.  Even  the  passenger  on  the  train 
along  this  stretch  of  the  Susquehanna  will  note  the 
curious  upheavals  of  the  strata,  while  the  man  with  only 
a  rudimentary  knowledge  of  geology  may  walk  among 
these  upheavals,  with  hammer  in  hand,  and  will  un- 
cover endless  romances  of  the  plants  and  animals  of 
untold  generations. 

"The  secret  of  the  coal  measures  of  Pennsylvania 
soon  becomes  an  open  book  to  such  a  wanderer,"  a 
Pennsylvania  geologist  said  to  the  author,  "for  he  will 
l&arn  what  is  meant  by  the  statement  that  the  entire 
surface  of  the  state  was  once  overlaid  with  coal,  and 
that  the  overlay  has  all  disappeared  in  Eastern  Penn- 
sylvania except  in  the  anthracite  basin  where  coal  went 
down  so  deep  in  the  valleys  that  the  process  of  erosion 
did  not  reach  it.  In  Western  Pennsylvania,  where 
there  was  only  half  a  mile  of  erosion,  there  is  at  the 
surface  bituminous  coal,  which  has  entirely  disappeared 
in  the  east. ' ' 

The  remarkable  anthracite  area  is  but  a  little  over 
three  thousand  square  miles.  And  this  is  the  only 
anthracite  in  the  country,  except  a  little  in  Colorado 

208 


GIANT  ANT  HILLS,  BEDFORD  STATE  FOREST,  NEAR  RAINSBURG,  PENNSYLVANIA 


BEAVER  DAM,  SIZERVILLE  STATE  FOREST,  CAMERON  COUNTY,  PENNSYLVANIA 


A   WESTERN   PENNSYLVANIA   SOFT   COAL   COLLIERY 


BLAIR   GAP,    PENNSYLVANIA 


AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 

and  New  Mexico.  There  are  nearly  five  times  as  many 
square  miles  of  bituminous  coal  measures. 

Many  of  the  mountain  regions  of  Western  Penn- 
sylvania were  once  illuminated  by  the  fires  of  those 
who  provided  still  another  fuel — the  tenders  of  the 
coke  ovens.  Melancholy  ruins  of  thousands  of  these 
ovens  which  once  belched  fire  in  an  astonishing  manner, 
are  to  be  seen  by  travelers  along  the  railroads  that 
cross  the  mountains.  They  were  abandoned  because 
of  the  exhaustion  of  the  coal,  in  favor  of  new  fields 
like  those  in  southwestern  Pennsylvania. 

Many  years  before  the  immigrants  passed  westward 
to  their  black  toil  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  or  among 
the  volcano-like  ovens,  pioneers  of  another  race  made 
their  weary  way  over  the  mountains,  most  pf  them 
choosing  the  route  that  is  now  known  as  the  Lincoln 
Highway.  A  reminder  of  their  passage  still  stands, 
on  the  eastern  slope  of  Chestnut  Eidge,  nine  miles  west 
of  Bedford — an  old  frame  church  with  its  surrounding 
graves,  built  on  the  site  given  for  the  purpose  by  John 
Schell,  the  first  'settler  of  the  region.  There  many  of 
the  seekers  after  western  homes  stopped  to  rest  and 
worship,  and  a  few  found  in  the  graveyard  on  the 
ridge  a  longer  resting  place  for  their  weary  bones. 

When  railroads  were  first  talked  of,  most  people 
declared  that  it  was  impossible  to  find  a  practicable 
route  over  the  mountains  in  Pennsylvania ;  that  it  would 
be  necessary  to  be  satisfied  with  highways  or  with  a 
railroad  far  to  the  south.  As  late  as  1844,  Pittsburgh 
citizens  felt  that,  in  order  to  reach  Philadelphia  by  rail, 
they  must  seek  a  connection  with  the  Baltimore  and 
Ohio  Railroad.  Their  only  hope  of  getting  to  the  city 

14  209 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

by  the  Delaware  was  through  three  states  to  the 
south.  Yet  few  advocated  the  direct  route.  Senator 
Bigler,  who  was  to  become  the  governor  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, ventured  to  foretell  improvements  in  con- 
struction and  locomotion  that  would  make  possible  a 
more  direct  route  across  the  mountains. 

His  faith  triumphed,.  The  mountains  were  con- 
quered, and  there  was  provided  the  direct  route,  up 
the  Juniata,  through  the  gap  and  over  the  ridge  to 
the  summit  near  Horseshoe  Curve,  and  then  down 
through  the  valley  of  the  Conemaugh  toward  the  city 
by  the  Ohio. 

That  pioneer  railroad,  and  its  branches  to  the  right 
and  to  the  left,  have  shown  to  countless  thousands  some 
of  the  glories  of  the  uplands,  and  have  lured  a 
comparatively  few  choice  spirits  into  the  hidden 
fastnesses,  far  from  the  railroads  where,  in  the  regions 
of  solitary  splendor,  they  have  learned  really  to  know 
the  mountains. 

It  isn  't  such  a  simple  matter  to  know  the  mountains. 
Eeal  knowledge  involves  climbing  them  in  June.  It 
means  listening,  in  July,  to  the  green  trees  reaching  up, 
up,  up  the  slopes  as  they  whisper  to  each  other  the 
secrets  of  the  forest.  It  includes,  in  August,  whipping 
the  trout  stream  as  it  dashes  down  the  mountain  side, 
hastening  to  reach  the  lower  lands,  all  unconscious  that 
the  time  is  coming  when  it  will  sigh  in  vain  for  return 
to  the  upper  heaven-kissing  slopes.  In  September 
acquaintance  with  the  mountains  means  watching  the 
leaves  of  the  favored  aristocratic  trees  that  grow  where 
the  frost  reaches  them  early,  hastening  the  time  of 
their  appearance  in  rainbow  colors,  as  if  to  anticipate 

210 


AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 

the  departure  of  the  men  and  women  and  children  who 
will  soon  return  to  their  usual  round  for  the  winter. 

But  the  boast  of  those  who  insist  that  they  know 
the  mountains  is  vain,  if  they  have  seen  them  only  in 
the  summer.  Go  to  them  in  winter!  Make  friends 
with  them  in  November,  when  the  trees  on  the  slopes 
lift  aloft  their  ghostly  arms  and  give  voice  in  accents 
that  are  but  a  hoarse  and  sorrowful  echo  of  their  sum- 
mer sighing.  Abide  with  them  in  December,  when  thick 
ice  locks  the  brooks  and  whirls  along  the  bleak  open 
spaces  and  among  the  shuddering  trees,  swiftly  trans- 
forming the  slopes  into  beauty  that  makes  the  beholder 
breathless  in  his  wonder,  clothing  the  nakedness  of  the 
trees  until  they  are  like  great  pillows,  fluffed  out  with 
softest  down,  Then  revel  in  their  company  in  Febru- 
ary, when  the  blanket  from  the  skies  lies  everywhere 
so  thick  it  seems  impossible  that  the  landscape  can 
ever  regain  its  well-remembered  summer  aspect. 

The  trail  of  the  man  who  knows  and  delights  in  the 
mountains  is  everywhere  in  Pennsylvania.  Follow  him 
to  Center  County,  where  Snow  Shoe  hints  of  early 
visitors  to  remote  knobs  that  are  rugged  and  steep. 
Then  far  to  the  east  in  Northampton  County  Wind  Gap 
• — once  the  pathway  of  the  majestic  moose  in  search 
of  southern  pasturage — tells  of  a  pioneer  with  the  soul 
of  a  poet,  who  found  keen  joy  in  thinking  of  the  ages 
when  perhaps  a  stream  found  passage  through  the 
gap,  was  hindered  by  a  hard  ridge,  and  changed  its 
course.  So  names  that  are  eloquent  become  familiar 
to  the  wanderer  in  the  Highlands  of  Pennsylvania,  mak- 
ing him  forget  other  belittling  titles  that  have  been  fast- 
ened on  some  of  the  outstanding  marvels  of  the  State. 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

The  legends  that  clustesr  about  these  mountains  have 
been  gathered  with  loving  patience  by  Colonel  Henry 
W.  Shoemaker,  whose  home,  Restless  Oaks,  near  Mc- 
Elhattan,  in  Clinton  County,  is  in  the  heart  of  the 
heights  which  are  his  delight.  From  his  garden  he 
looks  across  the  West  Branch,  far  off  into  McElhattan 
Gap,  notable  even  in  Pennsylvania.  Close  to  Colonel 
Shoemaker's  dooryard  a  stone  tells  of  another  Indian 
James  Logan,  the  famous  Mingo  chief,  and  the  old 
black  oak  tree  under  which  he  used  to  rest  when  on  his 
way  across  the  mountain  wilderness  to  his  favorite 
camp  ground  at  the  Sulphur  Springs. 

The  journey  to  the  springs  which  the  Indian  orator 
took  so  often  leads  across  majestic  Bald  Eagle  Moun- 
tain, and  then  through  a  succession  of  valleys  buried 
in  the  heart  of  the  Pennsylvania  Highlands,  to  Penn's 
Cave,  cunningly  hidden  deep  in  a  leafy  glen.  The 
only  entrance  to  the  cavern  is  by  water,  for  water  fills 
all  of  the  winding  passage.  Flat  bottomed  boats,  motor 
driven,  await  those  who  have  learned  how  to  find  their 
way  to  this  gem  of  the  Highlands.  The  guide  who 
conducted  the  author's  party  through  the  maze  had  a 
penetrating  but  sympathetic  voice  and  the  slow  quar- 
ter-of-a-mile  journey  under  the  vaulted  roof  with  its 
curiously  shaped  stalactites  was  an  object  lesson  in 
geology,  for  there  the  process  of  erosion  that  shaped 
the  mountains  and  valleys  of  Pennsylvania  during  the 
ages  is  still  going  on. 

Without  warning  the  ride  was  at  an  end ;  the  lime- 
stone roof  descended  to  the  water  where  it  sinks  into 
the  foundation  of  the  mountain,  only  to  reappear  in 
the  open  air  some  distance  away,  as  Karoondinha  Creek, 
whose  source  is  within  the  cave. 

212 


PINE   CREEK    GORGE,    LYCOMING    COUNTY,    PENNSYLVANIA 


ENTRANCE  TO  PENN '«  CAVE,  CENTER  COUNTY,  PENNSYLVANIA 


AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 

After  visiting  the  cave  and  listening  to  its  legend 
is  the  time  to  take  what  has  been  called  the  finest 
railroad  ride  in  Pennsylvania — from  Montander  on  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad  above  Sunbury  to  Bellefonte 
on  the  Lewisburg  and  Tyrone  Railroad.  The  route 
is  perhaps  seventy-five  miles  long.  But  these  miles 
are  so  wonderful  that  it  seems  a  pity  not  to  cover  them 
on  foot  or  on  a  horse.  The  route  is  through  Buffalo 
Valley,  then  through  the  Tight  End  of  Union  County, 
following  the  Karoondinha  from  Farrandsville  to 
Coburn.  From  Coburn  to  Spring  Mill  the  creek  is 
lined  with  virgin  timber  which  frequently  comes  down 
to  the  very  bank  of  the  stream.  The  country  has  hardly 
changed  since  the  time  when  the  Indians  filed  through 
the  valley,  or  the  later  time  when  the  wheat-laden  arks 
floated  down  to  Harrisburg  and  Baltimore. 

Not  far  from  Spring  Mill  is  the  spot  where  the 
Karoondinha  lost  since  its  disappearance  in  Penn's 
Cave,  issues  from  its  depths  in  full-grown  beauty.  Of 
all  the  virgin  timber  in  the  valley  of  the  Karoondinha — 
or  Penn's  Valley,  as  it  is  also  called — the  most  notice- 
able trees  at  the  time  of  the  visit  of  the  author  were 
near  Aaronsburg ;  they  were  known  to  the  men  of  the 
State  Forestry  Department  as  the  Monarch  and  the 
Three  Allies,  stately  white  pines  that  lifted  their  plumed 
crowns  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  or 
more.  Experts  declared  that  the  trees  were  from  two 
hundred  to  three  hundred  years  old. 

Standing  beneath  these  giants,  and  looking  far  up 
the  great  trunks,  it  seems  natural  to  think  of  the  song 
of  Henry  van  Dyke: 

213 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

"I  will  sing;  of  the  bounty  of  the  big  trees, 
They  are  the  green  tent*  of  the  Almighty, 
He  hath  set  them  up  for  comfort  and  for  shelter. 

"Their  cords  hath,  he  knotted!  in  the  earth, 
He  hath  driven  their  stakes  securely, 
Their  root*  take  hold  of  the  rocks  like  iron. 

"  He  sendeth  into  their  bodtes  the!  sap  of  life, 
Tlhey  lift  themselves  lightly  toward  the  heavens; 
They  rejoice  in  the  broadening  of  their  branches. 

P  Their  leaves  drink  in  the  sunlight  and  the  air, 
They  talk  softly  together  when  the  breeze  bloweth, 
Their  ihadow  in  the  noon-day  is  full  of  coolness."1 


This  is  what  God  has  made !  And  man  is  doing  his 
best  to  destroy  all  these  wonders.  There  is  a  wise  way 
of  bringing  low  the  trees,  and  there  is  an  unwise  way. 
Alas  that  in  Pennsylvania  the  unwise  and  ruthless  way 
usually  has  been  taken.  A  recent  visitor  to  the  valley 
of  the  Allies  told  sorrowfully  of  finding  sawmills  every- 
where, and  of  passing  six  loads  of  sawed  lumber  in  a 
distance  of  seven  mile's. 

Among  those  who  have  been  guilty  of  destroying 
the  forests  of  these  valleys  was  Queen  Isabella  II  of 
Spain,  who,  about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
invested  most  of  her  private  fortune  in  timber  lands  and 
mining  ventures  along  the  West  Branch  and  its  tribu- 
taries. Her  agents  built  the  Fallon  House  at  Lock 
Haven,  which  still  shelters  the  traveler,  made  their 
headquarters  at  Farrandsville,  and  conducted  many 
operations  on  Quinn's  Eun  and  Tangasoootac  Creek. 

For  nearly  twenty  years  the  royal  money  was  spent 

^rom  the  collected  poems  of  Henry  van,  Dyke.     Copyrighted  by 
Charles  Soribner's  Sons,  1920, 
214 


AMONG  THE  PENNSYLVANIA  MOUNTAINS 

freely  in  these  Pennsylvania  fastnesses,  but  by  1870 
the  mines  were  closed,  and  the  lumbering  operations 
were  concluded ;  the  disastrous  venture  was  ended. 

Yet  to  this  day  the  traveler  who  passes  through  the 
country  under  the  wing  of  an  old  settler  is  startled  to 
hear  him  say,  as  he  points  to  some  timbered  ridge, 
" There  are  some  of  the  Queen  of  Spain's  lands." 


CHAPTER  XXV 
IN  EASTERN  PENNSYLVANIA 

THE  traveler  in  Eastern  Pennsylvania  feels 
himself  continually  applying  to  the  country 
through  which  he  passes  the  words  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott  in  the  "Fair  Maid  at  Perth :" 

"It  is  long  since  Lady  Mary  Montagu,  with  that 
excellent  taste  which  characterizes  her  writings,  ex- 
presses her  opinion  that  the  most  interesting  district 
of  every  country  and  that  which  exhibits  the  varied 
features  of  natural  scenery  in  greatest  perfection,  is 
that  where  the  mountains  sink  down  upon  the  Cham- 
paign, or  more  level  land.  The  most  picturesque,  if  not 
the  highest,  hills  are  also  to  be  found  in  the  county  of 
Perth.  The  rivers  find  their  way  out  of  the  mountain- 
ous region  by  the  wildest  leaps,  and  through  the  most 
romantic  passes  connecting  the  Highlands  with  the 
Lowlands.  Above,  the  vegetation  of  a  happier  climate 
and  soil  is  mingled  with  the  magnificent  characteristics 
of  mountain  scenery,  and  woods,  groves  and  thickets  in 
profusion  clothe  the  base  of  the  hills,  ascend  up  the 
ravines,  and  mingle  with  the  precipices." 

One  reminder  of  charming  Perthshire  is  the  rapid 
descent  from  the  high  ground  about  Malvern  to  the 
Great  Valley,  and  then  the  great  sweep  of  the  valley  to 
the  westward,  then  north,  then  south  to  the  bound- 
ing hills. 

The  delights  of  this  region  were  described  in  1793 
by  Andre  Michaux,  after  his  tour  of  Pennsylvania. 

210 


IN  EASTERN  PENNSYLVANIA 

Nine  years  later  he  was  followed  by  his  son  Frangois, 
who  rode  through  the  valley  on  a  day  in  late  June  when 
it  was  at  its  best.  He  crossed  the  east  branch  of  the 
Brandywine  at  Downingtown  and  the  west  branch  at 
Coatesville,  then  passed  to  Lancaster,  where  he  must 
have  seen  the  courthouse  on  Center  Square,  in  which 
the  Continental  Congress  met  for  one  day,  September 
27, 1777.  This  city  of  the  Mennonites,  the  Amish,  and 
the  Dunkards  has  replaced  the  historic  courthouse  by 
a  soldiers'  monument,  but  it  still  can  show  many  relics 
of  the  past  along  with  its  evidence  of  modern  progress. 

Frangois  Michaux  went  on  from  Lancaster  to 
Shippensburg,  through  a  country  which  charmed  him 
at  every  mile.  But  great  as  was  his  delight  in  the 
scenery,  it  was  greater  still  in  his  botanizing,  especially 
when  he  was  able  to  find  specimens  of  the  shortleaf 
pine,  a  tree  that  grows  luxuriantly  farther  south, 
though  some  specimens  may  still  be  found  in  southern 
Pennsylvania.  The  most  notable  grove  of  the  species, 
near  Mont  Alto — perhaps  the  very  grove  visited  by  the 
French  scientist — was  preserved  by  the  wise  owner, 
who  said,  "So  long  as  my  eyes  remain  open  these 
glorious  trees  will  stand."  Timbermen  eyed  with 
longing  the  three  hundred  acres;  of  woodland  over 
which  the  stately  pines  towered,  but  not  until  1914  were 
they  able  to  make  their  destructive  way  within  the 
charmed  region  of  the  grounds. 

Michaux 's  discovery  of  the  pine  trees  was  com- 
memorated later  by  the  planting  of  specimens  at  the 
Chateau  of  Fontainebleau,  in  France,  and  his  keen 
interest  in  the  trees  of  the  state  bore  fruit  when  he  left 
an  endowment  that  enabled  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania to  man  the  Michaux  Lectureship  on  Forestry. 

217 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

One  of  the  early  holders  of  the  lectureship  was  Doctor 
J.  T.  Rothrock,  the  father  of  Pennsylvania's  fruitful 
forest  policy,  that  bids  fair  to  transform  what  Gifford 
Finchot  has  called  "the  Pennsylvania  Desert, "  a 
region  larger  than  the  state  of  New  Jersey,  where  trees 
have  been  removed,  and  where  nothing  but  trees  can 
be  made  to  grow. 

Here  and  there  municipalities  are  following  the 
example  of  the  state  by  encouraging  scientific  forestry. 
Notable  among  them  is  Beading,  whose  efforts  to  curb 
the  quarrymen  who  are  ruining  the  best  part  of  Mount 
Penn  have  attracted  attention.  In  the  edge  of  the 
city,  above  Angelica  Creek,  two  million  trees  have  been 
planted  by  the  owner  of  a  private  estate  who  invites 
visitors  to  climb  to  a  stone  observation  tower  above 
the  forested  slopes  from  which  they  can  look  off  twenty 
miles  to  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  can  see  the  Port 
Clinton  Gap. 

Reading  offers  an  embarrassing  choice  of  walks 
and  drives  that  emphasize  Bayard  Taylor's  claim  that 
"few  towns  on  this  side  the  Atlantic  are  so  nobly  envi- 
roned." There  is  the  short  trip  to  State  Hill,  over- 
looking the  valley  of  the  Tulpehocken,  with  the  Blue 
Mountains  in  the  distance.  There  is  the  climb  to  the 
Wernersville  heights,  overlooking  the  valley  of  the 
Cocalico,  with  the  "Welsh  Mountains  in  the  distance. 
There  is  the  varied  trip  to  the  hill  where  Hain  's  Church 
peeps  down  into  the  Lebanon  Valley — the  church  built 
in  1766,  which  still  presents  above  the  main  door  a  stone 
defaced  in  1776,  when  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
was  read  to  the  assembled  congregation.  Some  who 
heard  the  words  of  defiance  to  King  George  thought  of 
the  legend  on  the  stone,  which  told  of  the  purpose  of 

218 


COVERED  BRIDGE  OVER  KISKIMINETAS,  NEAR  SALTSBURG,  PENNSYLVANIA 


WEST    ENTRANCE    TO    CALEDONIA    PARK,    SOUTH    MOUNTAIN,    PENNSYLVANIA 


IN  EASTERN  PENNSYLVANIA 

the  members  "to  be  loyal  to  the  King."  The  cry  was 
raised,  "The  King  must  come  out!"  A  ladder  was 
brought  and  part  of  the  inscription  was  removed,  and 
the  stone  was  left  with  message  incomplete*  So  it 
is  today. 

A  popular  ride  is  six  miles  south  of  Beading  to  an 
old  stone  farmhouse  built  in  1725,  which  was  the  home 
of  Mordecai  Lincoln,  great-great-grandfather  of 
Abraham  Lincoln.  Near  by  is  the  cabin  where  the 
family  of  Daniel  Boone  lived.  Abraham  Lincoln, 
grandson  of  Mordecai,  and  grandfather  of  the  Presi- 
dent, married  Ann  Boone,  cousin  of  Daniel  Boone. 
Later  both  families  emigrated. 

The  Berks  County  Conservation  Society  has  pro- 
vided a  series  of  Travel  Trails.  One  of  these,  the 
Antietam  Trail,  circles  Mount  Penn,  and  le'ads  to  the 
City  Tree  Nursery,  at  Antietam  Lake,  then  on  to  Deer 
Path  Hill,  where  the  elevation  of  one  thousand  feet 
permits  a  wealthy  view  of  portions  of  the  Schuylkill 
Valley,  the  Tulpehocken  or  Lebanon  Valley,  South 
Mountain  away  to  the  left,  and  the  Blue  Mountains  to 
the  right.  The  Allegheny  Trail  of  forty  miles  has 
so  many  points  of  interest  that  a  folder  has  been  pre- 
pared telling  of  them  and  describing  the  route. 

Belies  of  the  sturdy  settlers  among  the  hills  and  in 
the  valleys  of  Berks  County  are  shown  in  the  building 
of  the  Berks  County  Historical  Society,  Perhaps 
greatest  interest  attaches  to  the  plates  from  old  cast 
iron  stoves  used  by  the  pioneers. 

These  pioneers,  recent  emigrants  from  central  Eu- 
rope where  the  cast  iron  stove,  made  of  plates  bolted 
together,  was  a  customary  feature  of  home  life,  brought 
with  them  to  America  the  taste  for  this  peculiarly 

219 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

made  bit  of  house  furniture.  At  first  they  imported 
stoves  cast  in  Europe.  Later,  when  furnaces  were 
opened  in  America,  one  of  their  first  products  was  the 
plates  for  these  odd  stoves.  They  were  called  five- 
plate,  six-plate,  ten-plate  stoves,  according  to  the 
number  of  plates  in  the  stove.  The  early  stove  had 
five  or  six  plates,  one  for  each  side  of  the  cube  into 
which  it  was  fastened  by  means  of  bolts. 

The  peculiarity  of  these  plates  that  makes  them  in- 
teresting to  present  day  collectors  is  that  they  were 
marvelously  decorated  with  relief  figures,  usually  rep- 
resenting Biblical  subjects.  The  scarcity  of  books  and 
papers  made  this  pictorial  method  of  representing 
Scripture  a  general  favorite. 

The  method  of  preparing  the  plates  was  very  crude. 
A  wooden  plate  was  fashioned,  the  size  of  the  proposed 
stove  plate.  On  this  was  carved  in  relief  the  figures 
and  other  things  which  were  to  be  represented,  or  a 
relief  carving  was  nailed  to  the  wooden  plate.  This 
pattern  was  then  pressed  into  the  moulder's  sand  and 
molten  iron  was  poured  from  the  primitive  furnace  into 
the  pressed  sand. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

PENNSYLVANIA  may  not  have  any  coast  line 
—it  is  the  only  one  of  the  original  thirteen  states 
that  does  not  touch  the  Atlantic — but  it  has  a 
wealth  of  water  that  distinguishes  it  even   among 
neighbors  richly  blessed  by  lakes  and  streams.    Its 
lakes  are  of  small  account;  most  of  the  two  score  and 
more  are  in  the  northeastern  section,  though  the  largest 
is  in  the  northwestern  corner  of  the  state.    But  the 
many  rivers  and  countless  smaller  streams  have  a 
peculiar  place  in  the  affections  of  the  people,  from  the 
Delaware  in  the  east  to  the  Ohio  in  the  west,  from  the 
Allegheny  and  the  Chemung  on  the  northern  border  to. 
crooked  Conococheague  Creek,  tributary  of  the  Potomac 
on  the  south.    The  historian  delights  in  their  storied 
past;  the  poet  feels  pleasure  in  their  tuneful  names ;. 
the  traveler  rejoices  in  their  beauty  that  is  sometimes 
quiet  and  serene,  frequently  quite  spectacular,  always 
dignified ;  the  scientist  never  wearies  of  tramping  along 
their  banks  and  asking  them  to  tell  their  stories  of  the 
ages  when  Pennsylvania  was  young;  while  the  geo- 
grapher feels  perennial  interest  in  studying  the  way 
some  of  them  triumph  over  the  mountains,  cutting  di- 
rectly across  their  great  bulk,  and  the  fashion  others 
have  of  following  meekly  the  valleys  between  the  ridges, 
borrowing  beauty  from  the  overshadowing  heights. 

Few  of  the  streams  are  navigable,  though  the  men 
of  the  early  days  were  reluctant  to  own  this  truth. 

221 


SEEING  THE  EASTEBN  STATES 

How  persistently  they  tried  to  make  the  Susquehanna 
carry  their  burdens!  In  1796  an  enthusiast  insisted 
that  the  prospect  of  internal  commerce  on  this  stream 
was  very  bright;  he  declared  that  even  the  Ohio  and 
the  Mississippi  would  have  to  yield  to  it  because  of  the 
extent  and  value  of  its  commerce.  But  the  shallow 
waters  and  the  rocks  of  the  Susquehanna  at  length 
convinced  its  partisans  of  the  uselesteness  of  attempting 
navigation  of  anything  but  the  canals  that  were 
constructed  along  its  banks.  These  canals  were  part 
of  a  system  of  internal  improvements  which  may  be 
traced  today  by  relics  of  their  departed  grandeur,  or 
they  may  be  mentally  reconstructed  by  tho'se  who  wan- 
der by  the  artificial  waterways  still  in  use,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware,  the  Lehigh  and  the  Schuylkill, 
for  instance. 

It  is  impossible  to  tell  the  story  of  the  streams  of 
Pennsylvania  without  detailing  also  the  romance  of  the 
early  history  of  the  colony  or  the  state.  The  southern 
reaches  of  the  Delaware  tell  of  Penn's  friendly  dealings 
with  the  Indians  and  of  the  later  proposal  to  fix  the 
Capital  of  the  United  States  a  few  miles  above  the  site 
of  the  country  home  of  the  founder  of  the  common- 
wealth, while  the  more  picturesque  upper  waters  speak 
of  pioneers  for  whom  it  was  a  pathway  to  the  wilder- 
ness. The  Schuylkill,  flowing  from  the  region  of 
anthracite,  skirts  Valley  Forge,  where  Washington 
performed  the  miracle  of  bringing  his  starving  army 
through  a  winter  of  torture.  The  Susquehanna  was 
the  route  of  those  who  sought  the  north,  and  it  floated 
the  rafts,  of  those  who  went  even  to  Pine  Creek  and 
to  the  Sinnemahoning  for  the  timber  that  once  covered 
so  much  of  the  state.  The  Juniata  and  the  Conemaugh, 

222 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

links  in  the  water  chain  that  bound  Philadelphia  to 
Pittsburgh  in  days  before  the  Pennsylvania  railroad, 
whisper  still  the  tale's  of  savage  uprisings  and  of  sur- 
prising escapes,  like  that  of  Jane  Maguire,  who,  when 
Indians  attempted  to  seize  her,  took  advantage  of  the 
tearing  of  her  gown  to  jump  out  of  it,  and  grasp  the 
tail  of  a  passing  cow  which,  frightened,  dragged  her  to 
safety  at  a  fort  near  the  present  site  of  Huntington. 

Then  there  is  the  Allegheny,  which  bore  Celeron 
with  his  cargo  of  leaden  plates,  intended  for  burial 
along  the  watercourse  in  token  of  the  claim  of  France 
to  the  western  land,  and  the  Monongahela,  favored  by 
early  emigrants  to  Ohio,  which  comes  up  from  the  south 
to  join  forces  with  the  northern  stream  in  making  the 
Ohio,  the  mighty  carrier  of  Pennsylvania's  coal  to  the 
valley  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  stretch  of  the  Monongahela  for  an  air-line  dis- 
tance of  thirty-five  or  forty  miles  below  Pittsburgh  is 
remarkable  for  the  history  that  was  made  there.  In 
the  days  of  the  pioneer  who  floated  down  stream  from 
Redstone  Old  Fort,  near  the  present  site  of  Browns- 
ville, it  was  noteworthy  also  because  of  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  the  country  through  which  it  flowed.  Railroads 
and  mills,  culm  banks  and  coal  tipples,  clustering 
miners '  village's  and  smoky  industrial  towns  have  taken 
away  the  beauty  for  some,  though  in  the  opinion  of 
others  the  glimpses  of  industrial  Pennsylvania  secured 
from  the  banks  of  the  stream  add  to  the  attractiveness 
of  the  picture. 

Close  to  the  mouth  of  Redstone  Creek  the  Indians 
built  their  earthworks,  and  their  Anglo-Saxon  succes- 
sors made  the  first  agricultural  settlement,  probably 
about  1750.  And  to  this  favored  spot,  framed  in  by 

223 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

clustering  hills,  thousands  who  sought  the  West  came 
to  begin  the  adventurous  journey  by  ark  or  flatboat 
or  keelboat.  Primitive  boat-building  yards  were 
founded  there,  for  the  accommodation  of  those  who 
would  trust  themselves  to  the  river's  hill-bordered 
trough,  where  rocky  bluffs,  broken  continually  by 
wooded  ravines,  led  up  to  the  green  slopes. 

There  was  boat-building  also  at  the  "  Forks  of 
Yough,"  where  the  Youghiogheny  entered  the  Monon- 
gahela.  In  passing  this  spot  favored  by  the  Indians, 
pioneers  were  following  in  the  wake  of  Major 
Washington  and  Christopher  Gist,  as  well  as  of  the  ill- 
fated  Braddock,  who  crossed  the  Monongahela  at  the 
Forks,  only  to  cross  again  near  the  mouth  of  Turtle 
Creek,  hard  by  the  ravine  where  the  French  and  Indians 
surprised  him.  Bustling  Braddock  covers  the  site  of  the 
massacre,  the  mills  giving  prophecy  of  the  clamor  and 
smoke  of  Pittsburgh. 

Towering  business  structures  crowd  close  to  the 
point  where  the  waters  of  the  Allegheny  join  those  of 
the  Monongahela,  but  they  leave  room  for  the  old 
Block  House,  built  in  1764  by  Colonel  Bouquet  at  what 
has  been  called  "the  most  strategic  plot  of  ground  in 
colonial  days  west  of  the  Allegheny  Mountains. ' ' 

In  the  days  when  men  floated  down  the  river  in  their 
flatboats,  they  liked  to  stop  long  enough  to  climb  to  the 
South  Side  heights,  where  they  could  have  a  satisfying 
glimpse  of  the  meeting  of  the  river's  and  of  the  hills 
between.  Today  the  same  heights  provide  vantage 
ground  for  modern  gazers.  For  them,  however,  there 
is  an  easier  ascent  than  in  those  days ;  they  can  use  the 
"inclines,"  which  take  passengers  and  freight  up  the 
declivities  on  cars  that  glide  with  ease  and  safety, 

224 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

though  to  the  beginner  in  Pittsburgh  the  ride  looks 
like  a  questionable  venture.  But  fears  are  speedily 
forgotten  as  the  view  unfolds  of  the  city  where  tall 
buildings  are  near  neighbors  of  smoking  stacks  and 
furnaces  belching  red  flames,  where  houses  cling  to 
cliffs  on  which  a  goat-might  find  delight,  where  ravines 
lead  enticingly  into  the  heart  of  the  city,  where  Schenley 
Park  provides  a  home  for  the  great  Carnegie  Institute, 
with  its  Museum,  its  Music  Hall,  its  Library  School  and 
its  Institute  of  Technology,  as  well  as  for  the  University 
of  Pittsburgh,  whose  founding  in  1787  enables  it  to 
boast  that  it  is  the  oldest  institution  of  learning,  except 
the  University  of  Nashville,  west  of  the  Alleghenies. 

The  keen  satisfaction  of  those  who  gaze  on  the 
wonders  of  the  waterways  of  Pittsburgh  cannot  be 
complete  until  the  journey  is  continued  down  the  Ohio, 
to  the  Great  Bend,  and  to  Eochester  and  Beaver. 
Bounded  hills,  graceful  bends,  verdant  islands,  and 
mysterious-looking  ravines  make  the  twenty-five  miles 
so  varied  that  it  is  easy  to  wish  to  make  the  bend,  in- 
stead of  a  terminus,  a  mere  stage  in  a  loving  inspection 
of  La  Belle  Riviere. 

But  those  lower  reaches  of  the  Ohio  will  wait  until 
the  traveler  goes  to  the  Delaware  and  follows  its  mean- 
derings  entirely  along  the1  eastern  border  of  the  State. 
The  bold  navigator  from  Virginia  who  passed  within 
the  Capes  and  marveled  at  the  tawny  flood  that  came 
down  from  the  north,  did  not  ascend  it  far,  but  he  saw 
enough  of  it  to  decide  that  it  was  worthy  of  bearing 
the  name  of  Lord  de  la  Warr,  the  Governor  of  the  Prov- 
ince of  Virginia.  He  carried  back  with  him  surprising 
tales  of  his  discovery,  but  they  were  nothing  to  the 
stories  he  might  have  told  if  he  had  been  privileged 

15  225 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

to  ascend  the  stream  to  the  head  of  navigation  at  Tren- 
ton, and  then  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  farther  to 
the  stretch  of  river  where  venturesome  canoemen  like 
to  begin  their  journey  toward  the  sea. 

It  is  indeed  a  venture  to  guide  a  canoe  from  the  New 
York  line  to  Trenton,  but  every  year  there  are  those 
who  decide  that  it  is  a  venture  worth  making.  The 
trip  provides  many  thrilling  moments  when  the  eye 
must  be  glued  to  the  river  lest  sudden  disaster  end  the 
journey,  just  as  it  offers  endless  temptations  to  lift 
the  eyes  to  the  marvels  of  bordering  mountains,  islands 
that  are  fit  to  be  the  abode  of  the  fairies,  cascades  whose 
waters  meet  the  rainbow,  massive  cliffs  of  formations 
varied  and  fantastic. 

The  upper  river  flows  through  a  country  wild  and 
mountainous,  where  rocky  cliffs  look  down  at  one 
moment  on  a  quiet  current,  and  next  instant,  perhaps, 
on  a  threatening  torrent.  The  miles  above  Port  Jervis 
are  as  wild  as  any  river  country  to  be  found  in  the  East ; 
one  enthusiast  who  brought  his  canoe  safely  through 
said  they  would  not  be  unworthy  of  the  Colorado  River. 
He  was  especially  attracted  by  the  country  about  Lack- 
awaxen,  where  he  dashed  through  a  twelve-foot  opening 
in  the  dam,  making  a  mad  rush  that  seemed  to  him  to 
be  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute. 

Shohola  Falls,  Mongaup  Falls,  and  Butler  Falls  are 
incidents  on  the  way  to  Port  Jervis  that  add  to  the 
danger  of  canoe  navigation,  while  they  help  to  make 
the  river  notable  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  seek 
the  beautiful. 

The  mouth  of  the  Neversink  near  Port  Jervis  marks 
the  point  where  the  borders  of  Pennsylvania,  New  York, 
and  New  Jersey  touch,  Tri-State  Rock  is  sought  by 

226 


CANAL  SCENE  NEAR  BETHLEHEM,  PENNSYLVANIA 


. 

^L$V-.--^*Jl      ^^P**^-^!^  * JHf^  ~     3 

ELEPHANT'S  FEET  ROCKS,  MILL  RIFT,  PENNSYLVANIA 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

thousands  who  wish  to  stand  near  the  boundary,  or  to 
climb  to  the  height  above  which  enables  the  eye  to  roam 
far  and  see  wonders  that  cannot  easily  be  forgotten. 

Below  Port  Jervis  the  country  becomes  less  rugged 
for  a  time;  then,  forty  miles  down,  the  mountains 
succeed  wonderfully  in  a  mighty  effort  to  make  the 
river  passage  remarkable.  They  crowd  down  to  the 
water,  Mt.  Minisi  on  the  Pennsylvania  shore,  Mt.  Tam- 
many on  the  New  Jersey  side.,  Really,  these  two  are 
one  mountain ;  somehow  during  the  ages  the  river  has 
persuaded  them  to  let  it  through.  And  now  from  its 
surface  the  traveler  looks  up  the  verdure-clad  precipices 
to  summits  sixteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea. 

From  the  Water  Gap  to  the  Forks  of  the  Delaware 
and  Easton — where  the  Lehigh  River  enters  from  the 
west — the  Delaware  Indians  used  to  paddle  their  canoes 
past  the  wooded  islands,  dexterously  conquering  the 
rafts  and  rapids  that  impede  navigation.  The  worst 
of  these,  Foul  Rift,  has  cost  the  lives  of  many  unwary 
river  men. 

From  Easton  to  the  Falls  of  the  Delaware  at 
Trenton  the  river  flows  more  quietly.  Yet  even  here 
there  are  treacherous  rifts  as  well  as  banks  that  lure 
the  wayfarer  to  brave  the  dangers  while  he  crosses  to 
study  more  closely  trickling  waterfalls,  leafy  banks  or 
beetling  cliffs. 

This  is  the  region  of  the  most  famous  crossing— that 
of  Washington  in  1776.  And  a  few  miles  below  the 
capital  of  New  Jersey  is  Dunker's  Ferry,  where,  on 
December  25,  1776,  Captain  Thomas  Rodney  took  five 
companies  of  light  infantry,  on  boats,  to  the  New  Jersey 
shore.  They  were  impeded  by  the  floating  ice  and 
chilled  by  the  biting  wind.  Three  hours  they  remained 

227 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN;  STATES 

on  the  land,  compelled  to  be  inactive  while  they  covered 
the  retreat  of  other  troops.  Then  once  more  they 
fought  the  floating  ice  as  they  sought  the  Pennsylvania 
shore.  Their  double  passage  was  as  remarkable  as 
that  of  ^Washington  and  his  men,  but,  because  they 
were  merely  maneuvering  to  allow  others  to  do  great 
tasks,  fame  has  passed  them  by. 

Not  a  great  distance  from  Bunker's  Ferry  is 
the  junction  with  the  Delaware  of  the  beautiful  Ne- 
shaminy^  the  stream  on  whose  bank  John  Fitch  was 
walking  when  he  had  his  vision  of  the  steamboat  that 
later  made  regular  packet  trips  between  Philadelphia 
and  Burlington. 

The  banks  of  the  Delaware,  from  the  stretch  where 
the  steamboat  of  Fitch  used  to  ply  to  the  source  in  New 
York  State,  call  loudly  to  the  pedestrian  as  well  as  to 
the  wise  men  who  favors  the  canoe.  But  to  those  who 
would  see  the  heart  of  Pennsylvania  while  they  are 
following  a  stream  both  historic  and  beautiful  the' 
smiling  Susquehanna  makes  appeal  even  more  insistent 
than  does  the  Delaware.  Those  who  wish  to  combine 
the  trips  in  one  long,  glorious  summer  holiday  have 
only  to  leave  the  Delaware  near  the  northeastern  corner 
of  the  state  and  walk  a  few  miles  to  the  spot  where  the 
Susquehanna  first  crosses  the  line  from  New  York  into 
Pennsylvania.  Then  comes  the  loop  into  New  York 
State,  where  the  river  is  joined  by  the  Chenango  Eiver, 
coming  down  from  the  north  and  adding  to  the  attrac- 
tiveness of  bustling  Binghamton. 

Excepting  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Susquehanna 
drains  the  largest  area  of  all  the  rivers  that  enter  the 
Atlantic.  Its  basin  measures  27,000  square  miles,  most 
of  it  in  Pennsylvania.  Yet  it  is  necessary  to  travel 

228 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

less  than  four  hundred  miles  to  see  the  country  along 
most  of  its  length,  including  the  West  Branch. 

[When  the  Susquehanna  enters  Pennsylvania  the 
second  time,  it  is  in  a  beautiful  valley  which  narrows 
to  a  point  where  the  river  receives  the  waters  of  the 
Chemung  at  Tioga  Point.  Then  comes  a  succession  of 
hills  and  valleys  which  the  Jndians  were  reluctant  to 
leave  when  the  pioneers  crowded  in  from  the  north,  the 
east  and  the  south* 

The  most  famous  of  the  valleys,  and  one  of  the  most 
popular  with  the  Indians,  as  with  those  who  have  suc- 
ceeded them,  was  the  Wyoming  Valley,  a  lingering  placa 
for  the  warriors  who  were  on  their  way  from  the  St. 
Lawrence  to  the  Potomac,  and  the  seat  of  several 
important  villages.  These  villages  sprang  up  where 
the  trails  by  which  the  Indians  followed  the  smaller 
streams  intersected  the  river.  One  of  these  villages, 
Asserughny,  was  located  near  the  mouth  of  the  Lacka- 
wanna.  There  the  contrast  of  hill  and  valley  and  the 
supply  of  fish  in  the  river  made  constant  appeal  to  the 
Delaware s,  who  found  keen  delight  in  the  beauty  about 
them,  as  well  as  intense  satisfaction  in  gathering  the 
good  things  the  world  provided. 

There  were  other  valleys  at  intervals  to  the  present 
site  of  Sunbury,  at  the  junction  of  the  West  and  North 
Branches,  where  Shamokin  was  located.  This  was  the 
Indian  town  which  a  missionary  in  1746  called  "the 
very  seat  of  the  Prince  of  Darkness. "  But  it  was  a 
natural  paradise.  The  rivers,  the  valleys,  the  boldly 
encroaching  hills,  made  a  picture  whose  charm  can 
easily  be  imagined  now  that  nothing  is  changed  but  the 
covering  forests. 

The  West  Branch  vies  with  the  North  Branch  both 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

in  wild  and  varied  beauty  and  in  its  reminders  of  the 
past.  There  are  mountains  that  touch  the  waters,  as 
well  as  many  others  that  make  a  distant  frame  for  the 
uplands  between.  Everywhere  are  towns  and  villages 
which  staged  romantic  episodes  of  days  that  are  gone. 
It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  Williamsport  was  once  a 
rough-and-tumble  lumber  town,  but  the  charm  of  river 
and  mountain  is  increased  by  the  thought  of  the  hardy 
men  who  faced  the  perils  of  rocks  and  riffles  as  they 
brought  out  of  their  mountains  great  rafts  destined  for 
builders  in  the  lowlands. 

A  landmark  of  the  early  navigation  of  the  river  was 
Great  Island,  near  Lock  Haven.  Today  a  state  road 
crosses  the  fertile  land  which,  in  1768,  was  bought  from 
its  Indian  owner  by  a  surveyor  who  gave  him,  for  the 
280  acres,  his  rifle  and  equipment,  as  well  as  a  keg 
of  whiskey.  When  the  Indian  was  sober  he  tried  to 
buy  back  the  island,  but  the  new  owner  insisted  on 
his  bargain. 

Above  Great  Island  Lock  Haven  stretches  pictur- 
esquely along  the  south  bank  of  the  river.  On  the 
green  near  the  water's  edge  is  the  site  of  Reed's  Fort, 
where,  in  1778,  the  murder  of  an  Indian  precipitated 
the  famous  " Great  Runaway,"  when  the  Susquehanna 
was  the  scene  of  excitement  unparalleled  in  its  turbulent 
history.  From  up  river  and  from  tributary  waters 
came  a  long  procession  of  refugees,  seeking  safety  at 
the  fort  below. 

Above  Lock  Haven — which  was  named  because  of 
the  lock  in  the  canal  and  a  raft  harbor  in  the  river — the 
valley  is  now  narrow,  now  broad.  The  railroad  follows 
the  sinuous  curves  of  the  stream.  The  bluffs  sometimes 
rise  precipitously  from  the  water,  their  tree-clad  slopes 

230 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

darkening  the  depths  beneath.  At  times  there  is  a 
more  open  space,  where,  perhaps  a  highway  approaches 
a  primitive!  rope  ferry.  Frequently  the  mountains 
seem  to  close  in  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  as  if  to  make 
passage  impossible.  Then  comes  one  of  the  graceful 
gaps  through  which  the  pioneers  moved  on  to  the  con- 
quest of  the  wilderness. 

"  Wonderful,  isn't  it?"  was  the  enthusiastic  remark 
of  the  Pullman  conductor  on  a  train  that  was  threading 
these  regions  on  toward  some  of  the  highest  land  of  the 
state.  ' 1 1  have  traveled  with  parties  all  over  the  United 
States,"  he  added.  "I  have  been  to  the  Grand  Canyon 
of  the  Colorado  and  to  all  the  National  Parks.  But  for 
real  satisfaction  and  endless  delight  give  me  the  West 
Branch  Valley  and  the  valley  of  the  Sinnemahoning. " 

Another  fellow- traveler  declared  that  his  favorite 
stretch  of  the  Susquehanna  was  farther  south,  on  the 
seventy  miles  of  the  main  river  between  Sunbury  and 
Harrisburg.  "To  me  it  is  the  finest  bit  of  railway 
travel  in  the  country,"  he  declared.  And  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  more  attractive  bit  of  country.  As  the 
river  flows  over  its  rocky  bed  there  are  rapids  and  eddies 
as  well  as  still  pools.  It  is  studded  with  green  islands ; 
sometimes  there  are  so  many  of  these,  at  an  unusually 
broad  section  of  the  shallow  river,  that  the  observer 
on  the  bank  has  a  vista  that  is  a  reminder  of  the  High- 
land lochs  in  Scotland.  Beyond  the  river  the  ridges 
rise  one  above  another  until  the  far-away  horizon  limits 
the  vision.  The  eastern  bank  is  fringed  with  vine-cov- 
ered trees  that  grow  from  the  bed  of  the  canal  where 
once  boatmen  guided  their  narrow  craft  in  sight  of 
Mahantongo  Mountain  by  the  side  of  a  great  body  of 
dead  water  which  they  called  * '  The  Irish  Sea. ' ' 

231 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Down  toward  Harrisburg  the  bank  should  bo 
deserted  for  a  most  distinctive  study  of  mountains  and 
river  from  midstream,  From  the  great  Bockville  stone 
arch  bridge  on  the  main  line  of  the  Pennsylvania  rail- 
road may  be  seen,  on  the  north,  the  mountains  closing 
in  on  the  river,  while,,  to  the  south,  the  stream, 
generously  broad,  makes  room  for  islands  fertile  and 
beautiful.  Up-river  the  current  is  broken  by  the 
crumbling  arches,  reminder  of  an  ill-starred  railroad 
venture  of  a  past  generation,  which  have  gradually 
yielded  to  the  attacks  of  the  ice  that  grinds  down  on 
them  with  the  break-up  of  winter. 

But  even  better  is  the  vision  from  the  lofty  dome 
of  the  Capitol  building  that  is  the  central  feature  of 
Harrisburg.  It  is  worth  while  to  toil  to  this  point  of 
vantage,  not  only  for  the  vision  of  valley  and  river  and 
mountain,  but  for  the  interior  survey  of  the  vast  dome, 
where  are  displayed  the  words  of  William  Penn  con- 
cerning the  f  ounding  of  his  colony : 

"  That  we  may  do  the  thing  that  is  truly  wise  and  just.  .  . 

"That  an  example  may  be  set  up  to  the  nation*.  .  . 

"  Tnat  there  may  be  room  there  for  such,  a,  holy  experiment.  .  . 

"For  the  nations  wait  a  precedent.  .  . 

"  And  my  God  will  make  it  the  seed  of  a  nation." 

From  this  monumental  building,  with  its  two  acres 
of  floor  space,  its  bronze  doors  which  Theodore 
Eoosevelt  said  were  the  most  beautiful  he  had  seen,  and 
its  Violet  Oakley  paintings,  the  way  is  short  to  the 
banks  of  the  Susquehanna,  bordered  by  the  five-mile 
boulevard,  a  bower  of  rich  green — a  section  of  the 
system  of  parks  of  which  Harrisburg  has  a  right  to 
be  proud. 

M 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOW 

From  Harrisburg  to  the  sea  the  river  at  every 
turn  discloses  fresh  reason  for  satisfaction.  It  never 
repeats ;  it  seems  never  to  weary  of  showing  how  many 
things  a  river  can  do  to  charm  those  who  follow  where 
it  leads. 

The  beauty  of  the  Susquehanna  appealed  to  some  of 
the  statesmen  of  1789  and  1790  so  much  that  they  nearly 
succeeded  in  fixing  on  Wright's  Ferry,  which  is  now 
Columbia,  as  the  site  of  the  Federal  District  and  the 
Capital  of  the  nation.  Parton,(  in  his  life  of  Jefferson, 
tells  how  the  project  failed. 

"A  ring  loomed  up  dimly  upon  the  imagination  of 
members,  supposed  to  have  baen  formed. .  .in  order  to 
fix  the  capital  at  Wright's  Ferry,  on  the  Susquehanna. 
The  members  from  New  England  and  New  York  agreed 
in  preferring  it,  as  the  point  nearest  the  center  of  popu- 
lation, weather  and  convenience,  and  for  many  days  it 
seemed  to  have  a  better  chance  than  any  of  the  other 
places  proposed — Harrisburg,  Baltimore,  New  York, 
Germantown,  Philadelphia.  But  Wright's  Ferry  lost 
its  chance  through  the  opposition  of  the  southern 
members,  and  the  ring-rumor  was  the  ass's  jaw-bone 
which  they  used  to  kill  the  project.  The  members  from 
New  England  and  from  New  York  denied  the  offensive 
charge,  and  contended  that  Wright  had  fixed  his  ferry 
at  the  point  which  would  be  the  center  of  population  for 
ages  to  com0.,.  .The  Susquehanna  men  triumphed  in 
the  House,  but  the  Senate  $ent  back  the  bill  with  Sus- 
quehanna stricken  out.-.,. " 

On  the  river  below  old  Wright's  Ferry  every  mile 
is  notable.  These  attractions  culminate  toward  Peach 
Bottom,  the  proposed  terminus  of  a  canal  planned  in 
early  days  between  the  Delaware  and  the  Susquehanna. 

233 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Later  a  canal  was  actually  built  on  the  York  County  side 
of  the  river.  Now  the  old  tow-path  is  used  for  a  road- 
way, while  the  bed  of  the  canal  has  been  filled 
up  by  soil  washed  down  from  the  hills. 

Peach  Bottom  was  the  name  given  to  settlements 
on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The  York  County  village 
was  an  important  shipping  point.  Now  nothing  is  left 
of  the  once  busy  place  but  the  ghost  of  an  old  hotel ;  the 
weather-beaten  warehouses  by  the  side  of  the  slip  into 
which  the  canal  boats  passed  when  about  to  receive  and 
discharge  cargo ;  the  old  saw-mill,  with  its  great  wooden 
wheel ;  and  the  grist  mill,  where  a  twenty-five-foot  wheel 
is  fixed  in  the  debris  brought  down  by  the  rushing  tribu- 
tary stream  that  supplies  the  power.  The  buildings 
are  falling  into  ruins — except  the  roofs,  which  are 
of  slate. 

Down  the  river  an  abrupt  hill  of  solid  slate  runs  to 
a  height  of  nearly  five  hundred  feet,  the  cliff  side  toward 
the  river.  The  climb  up  the  difficult  inland  slope  is 
fascinating  because  of  the  dense  foliage.  Then  the 
view  from  the  summit ! 

Most  of  those  who  come  to  this  favored  spot  cross 
the  river*  from  the  Lancaster  County  shore  to  the  York 
County  slopes  on  a  primitive  ferry  which  is  guided  by 
the  captain,  who  is  also  the  engineer,  the  fireman,  and 
the  deckhand.  After  firing  the  engine,  he  takes  his 
stand  on  the  roof  and  deftly  swings  the  long  sweep, 
cunningly  contrived  from  a  chestnut  tree.  This  sweep 
reaches  the  water  beyond  the  stern  wheel.  Just  at  the 
feet  of  the  man  of  many  jobs  is  a  hole  in  the  roof  which 
gives  access  to  the  valve  controlling  the  engine. 

Fifteen  minutes  are  required  for  the  crossing,  for 
the  river  is  nearly  two  miles  wide,  in  spite  of  the  fact 

234 


WHERE  PENNSYLVANIA'S  WATERS  FLOWj 

that  it  is  above  the  part  where  the  tide  makes  itself  felt. 
The  course  is  delightfully  crooked,  among  the  rocks 
and  the  wooded  islands,  some  low,  but  many  of  them 
quite  lofty.  The  eyes  turn  lingeringly  upstream  toward 
the  gap  in  the  hills  that  tells  of  secrets  hidden  there. 

Development  engineers  are  casting  eager  eyes  at  this 
section  of  the  river;  they  would  like  to  drown  out  the 
wonderful  islands  by  waters  impounded  by  a  great  dam. 
But  lovers  of  beauty  hope  that  the  Tucquan  Dam — a 
few  miles  up-stream — which  made  a  lake  of  a  remark- 
able bit  of  river,  will  be  looked  upon  as  development 
enough  for  the  region. 

Back  on  the  Lancaster  County  side  the  wanderer 
may  find,  hidden  among  the  hills,  near  the  river,  another 
curious  water  wheel,  which  once  operated  the  trip-ham- 
mer in  a  primitive  edge-tool  factory.  This  wheel  is 
not  at  the  side  of  the  building,  but  planted  on  the  dirt 
floor  on  the  inside,  where  ordinarily  the  forge  would  be. 
As  the  wheel  turned  successive  cams  on  the  axle  tripped 
the  long  handle  of  the  hammer,  so  that  it  rose  and  fell 
to  deliver  the  blows  that  helped  to  f  aishion  the  tools. 

Today  few  visitors  find  this  bit  of  country  that  was 
once  a  populous  center.  A  few  fishermen  know  what 
the  river  has  for  them,  and  there  are  hunters  who  make 
their  way  there.  Hough  shacks,  as  well  as  a  few  more 
ambitious  cottages,  on  the  islands  and  on  the  mainland, 
tell  of  summer  visitors  who  choo'se  to  live  far  from 
accustomed  haunts. 

On  a  day  in  May  the  author  climbed  to  the  covered 
porch  of  one  of  the  plainest  of  these  houses,  built  of 
rough  boards.  At  first  he  thought  there  was  no  living 
thing  about.  But  wait !  Where  were  those  two  Caro- 
lina wrens  bound  with  nice  fat  worxni  in  their  mouths. 

285 


SEEING  THE  EASTERN  STATES 

Evidently  they  had  a  nest  near  by.  But  they  were 
wary ;  for  some  time  they  eluded  the  sharp  eyes  fixed  on 
them.  But  at  last  patience  was  rewarded;  they  flew 
through  a  knot-hole  into  the  shack.  Study  of  the  inte- 
rior through  another  knot-hole  revealed,  after  half  an 
hour,  a  nest  within  an  iron  fettle,  hung  from  the  rafters. 
Then  came  a  further  reward  to  the  watcher ;  four  fluffy 
little  wrens  were  helped  down  from  the  lofty  perch  to 
a  mattress  rolled  up  in  a  corner. 

The  Peach  Bottom  neighborhood  is  famous  among 
lovers  of  birds.  For  some  reason  the  migrating  birds 
make  their  way  north  by  way  of  the  gap  in  the 
hills  by  the  Susquehanna.  Perhaps  they  like  the  trees. 
Possibly  the  scarcity  of  inhabitants  appeals  to  them. 
Perhaps  they  do  not  wish  to  disappoint  the  West 
Chester  Bird  Club,  which  makes  its  annual  pilgrimage 
to  the  favored  spot  when  the  trees  are  putting  on  their 
leaves  and  it  is  possible  to  stroll  for  an  hour  or  two 
among  the  hills  or  along  the  river  and  listen  to  the 
clear,  liquid  notes  of  birds  that  sing  deliciously,  deliri- 
ously, ecstatically.  In  this  rich  resort  for  the  bird  lover 
as  many  as  one  hundred  different  varieties  may  be  seen 
or  heard  during  a  walk  of  two  or  three  miles,  adding 
color  to  the  spring  landscape  in  telling  their  joy  that 
they  may  be  in  the  glorious  forest  by  the  riverside. 


INDEX 


Absecon  Island,  New  Jersey,  183 
Absecon  Light,  Atlantic  City,  181 
Adams,  John,  63;  John  Quincy,  63 
Adirondack  Canoe  Routes,  158 
Adirondack   Highways,    157 
Adirondack  Mountains,   146,   161 

156,   161 

Albany,  New  York,  145 
Alburgh,  Vermont,  153 
Alcott,  Louisa  M.,   56 
Alden,  John,  60,  66 
Allagash  River,  34 
Allegheny  Mountains,  207 
Allen,  Ebenezer,  153 
Allen,  Ethan,  45,  108,  150 
"Allen,  Fighting  Parson,"  74 
Ambrose  Channel,  140 
American  Missions,  birthplace  of, 

76 

Andross,  Sir  Edmund,  100 
Anthracite  region  of  Pennsylvania, 

208 

Appalachian  Club,  43 
Aquidneck  (Rhode  Island),  86 
Arnold,  Governor  Benedict,  87 
Aroostook  County,  Maine,  35 
Asbury  Park,  New  Jersey,  180 
Ashokan   Resevoir,    135 
Atlantic  City,  New  Jersey,  182 
Augusta,  Maine,  33 
Ausable  Chasm,  151 

Bald  Head  Cliff,  17 

Bancroft,  George,  37 

Bar  Harbor,  Maine,  24 

Barge  Canal,   169 

Barnegat  Bay,  New  Jersey,  181 


Barnet,  Vermont,  94 

Barnum,  P.  T.,  80 

Barton,  Clara,  59 

Bath,  Maine,  18 

"Beach  Parties,"   182 

Beecher,  Lyman,   18 

Bellows  Falls,  Vermont,   108 

Bennington,  Vermont,  45,   108 

Berks  County  Conservation  So- 
ciety, 219 

Berkshire  Hills,  72 

Bernard,  Governor   Francis,  23 

Bingham,  William,  25 

Birds  at  Peach  Bottom,  Pennsyl- 
vania, 236 

Block,  Adrian,  83 

Block  Island,   82,   83 

Blue  Hills  Forest  Reservation, 
Massachusetts,  62 

Blue  Hills,  Massachusetts,  63 

Bonaparte,  Joseph,  192 

Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  192 

Boone,  Daniel,  219 

Boston,  50 

Boston   Common,   50 

Bound  Brook,  New  Jersey,  191 

Boundary  disputes:  Maine  and 
New  Brunswick,  20;  New  York 
and  Connecticut,  79;  Connecti- 
cut and  Rhode  Island,  84; 
Massachusetts  Colony  and  Ply- 
mouth Bay  Colony,  88;  New 
Hampshire  and  New  York,  107; 
Delaware  and  Pennsylvania,  194 

Boaoer  and  Enterprise,  sea  fight 
of,  19 

Bradford,  Governor,  69,  71 

237 


INDEX 


Brainerd,  David,  192 
Brant,  Joseph,   167 
Brattleboro,  Vermont,  107 
Bretton  Woods,  New  Hampshire, 

41 

Bridgeport,  Connecticut,  80 
Bristol,  Rhode  Island,  88 
Brooks,  Phillips,  53 
Brown  University,  88 
Brunswick,  Maine,  17 
Bryant,   William   Cullen,   72,   76 
Buffalo,  New  York,  171 
Burgoyne's  defeat,    146,    147,    167 
Burlington,  Vermont,  111,  112,  151 
Burr,  Aaron,   105 
Burroughs,  John,  137 
Bushnell,  Horace,  100 
Buzzard's  Bay,  89 

Cadillac,  Antione  de  la  Motte,  23 
Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  51,  99 
Camden,  New  Jersey,  192 
Canaan,  Connecticut,  72,  74 
"Canawl,  the  Raging,"  81 
Canoe  trips,  28,  32,  33,  105,  109, 

158,  226 

Cape  Cod,  60,  66,  69 
Cape  Cod  Bay,  60 
Cape  Cod   Canal,  60 
Cape  May,  New  Jersey,  179,  183, 

184,   185 
Capital    of    the    United    States, 

possibilities  in   1790,   233 
Carasaljo,  Lake,  origin  of  name, 

187 

Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh,  225 
Carver,   Governor,   60,   69 
Casco  Bay,  Maine,  15,  17 
Catskill  Mountains,  73,  134,   145, 

146 
Champlain,  Lake,  48,  49,  111,  150, 

153,  157,  161 
238 


Champlain,  the  explorer,   19,  22, 

139,  150,  151 
Charles  River,  50,  58 
Charter   Oak,   Hartford,   100 
Chautauqua  Lake,   172 
Cherry  Valley,  New  York,  165 
Classical  Names  in  New  York,  168 
Clinton,  Governor  George,  144 
Conanicut  Island,  85 
Concord  and  Lexington,  Massachu- 
setts, 56 

Concord,  New  Hampshire,  38 
Connecticut,  sources  of  the,  110 
Connecticut   State  Park   Commis- 
sion, 96,  97 

Cooch's  Bridge,   Delaware,   197 
Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  87,  147, 

165 

Cooperstown,  New  York,  165 
Cornell  University,  170 
Couch-sa-ra-ge,  the  Dismal  Wilder- 
ness of  the  Iroquois,  157 
Crawford  Notch,  New  Hampshire, 

41 

Crown  Point,  151 
Curtis,  George  William,    146 

Dartmouth  College,  109 
Dawson,  William  P.,  7,  28,  43 
Deerfield,  Sack  of,  106,  107 
Delaware,   194 
Delaware  and  Chesapeake  Canal, 

198 

Delaware  and  Raritan  Canal,  191 
Delaware,  University  of,  198 
Delaware  Water  Gap,  187,  227 
Deportation,  the  first,  65 
Dismal  Wilderness  of  the  Iroquois, 

157 

Doodletown  Valley,  130 
Dorchester     Heights,      Massachu- 
setts, 61,  62 
Dover,  Delaware,  195,  199,  200 


INDEX 


Drake,  Samuel  Adams,  17 
Dunker's    Ferry-on-Delaware,    227 
Duxbury,    Massachusetts,    66 
Dwight,  Timothy,  94 
Eastport,  Maine,  15,  20 
Edwards.   Jonathan,    105;    Esther, 

105 

Eliot,  John,  58 
Elizabeth,  New  Jersey,  192 
Ellenville,  New  York,  136 
Ellsworth,  Oliver,  100 

Enterprise   and    Boxer,    sea    fight 

of,  19 

Eric  the  Norseman,  59 
Erie,  Lake,  172,  174 
Erie  Canal,  113,  145,  164,  168,  176 

Fairlee,  Vermont,  109,  110 

Falls   Line,    6 

Far  Rockaway,  Long  Island,  78 

Farmington  Canal,  81 

Fenwick,  George,  95 

Field,  Stephen  Johnson,  97 

Finger  Lake  Country  of  New  York, 
170 

Fiske,  John,  99,  164 

Fitch,  John,  110,  228 

Five  Nations,  163 

Flag,  United  States,  first  above 
fort,  166;  first  in  battle,  197 

Folger,  Abiah,  Mother  of  Benja- 
min Franklin,  91 

Forest  of  Dean  Iron  Mine,  142 

Forests:  White  Mountain  Nation- 
al, 40;  New  Hampshire  State, 
42;  Vermont  State,  46;  Blue 
Hills  Reservation,  Massachusetts, 
62;  Portland  state,  Connecticut, 
98;  in  Pennsylvania,  213 

"Fort  Blunder,"  155 

Fort  Christiana,  196 


Fort  Edward,  146 

Fort  Montgomery,   128 

Fort  Oswego,  168 

Fort  Stanwix,  166,  167,  168 

Fort  Stanwix,  Treaty  of,  164,  167 

Fort  Ticonderoga,   150 

Fort  William  Henry,  18,  147 

Franconia  Notch,  New  Hampshire, 

41 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  91,  204 
Freeman,  Alice,  first  president  of 

Wellesley  College,  57 

Game  in  the  Adirondacks,  159 
Garfield,  President  James  A.   180 
Genesee,  Falls  of  the,  171 
Geological  Survey,  United  States, 

158 

Geology    of    Pennsylvania,    moun- 
tain region,  207 
George,  Lake,  48,  147,  150,  157 
Ghent,  Treaty  of,  20 
Gist,  Christopher,  224 
Glens  Falls,  New  York,  147 
Gloucester,   Massachusetts,   55 
Grant,  President  Ulysses  S.,   180 
Great   Runaway,   on  the   Susque- 

hanna,  230 
Greeley,  Horace,  37 
Green,  Ashbil,  Address  to  George 

Washington,  190 
Green  Mountain  Boys,  45,  150 
Green  Mountain  Club,  46 
Green  Mountains,  45,  90,  111,  146, 

151 

Greenwood  Furnace,  132 
Gregoire,  Bartolemy  de,  23 
Grey  Lock,  Chief,  75 
Greylock  Park  Reservation,  75 
Greylock,  74 

Griffon,  first  vessel  on  the  Great 
Lakes,  172 

239 


INDEX 


Hackensack  Marshes,  New  Jersey, 

192 

Hadley,  Massachusetts,  105 
Hale,    Nathan,    97 
Hamilton,  Alexander,   192 
Hancock,  John,  50,  63 
Hanging  Valleys  of  Central  New 

York,  170 

Harpswell  Neck,  Maine,  17 
Harriman,   Mrs.   E.   H.,    126;    W. 

Averill,  126 
Harriman    Park,    129 
Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  231,  232 
Hartford,  Connecticut,  94,  95,  96, 

99 

Harvard   University,   82 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  38,  55,  56, 

73 
Haystack  Monument,  birthplace  of 

American  Missions,  76 
Hell  Gate,  116 

Herkimer,  General  Nicholas,   166 
Herkimer,  New  York,  167 
Higginson,  Thomas  Wentworth,  85 
Hingham,  Massachusetts,  65 
Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania, 

204 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  73,  77 
Holyoke,   Massachusetts,    104 
Hooker,  Thomas,  99 
Hoosac  Mountains,   75,  76 
Hoosac  Tunnel,  76 
Hopatcong,  Lake,  188 
Howe,  Elias,  59 
Howe,  Lord,  61 

Hudson,  Hendrick,  138,  139,  142 
Hudson,  New  York,  73,  145 
Hudson,  Palisades  of,  6,  122,  126, 

140 
Hudson  River  Canyon,  139 

Indian  Ladder,  188 

Indian  Stream  Territory,  the,  110 

240 


International  Park,  Thousand  Is- 
lands, 162 

Iron  Hill,  Delaware,  198 

Isabella  II  of  Spain,  214 

Islands  of  Lake  Champlain,  Cros- 
sing the,  by  railroad,  154,  155 

Ithaca,  New  York,  170 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  109 
Jones,  John  Paul,  109 

Kaaterskill  Falls,  New  York,  135 
Karoondinha,  Valley  of,  213 
Katahdin,  Mount,  27 
Kellogg,   Elijah,    17 
Kennebec  River,  18,  33 
Kennebunk  Beach,  Maine,  17 
Kennebunkport,  Maine,    17 
Kinco,  Mount,  35 
Kingston,  New  York,   145 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  107 
Kittery  Point,  Maine,  15,  17 
Ktaadn,  Mount,  26 

Lafayette,  Marquis  de,  23,  58 
Lafayette  National  Park,  23 
Lakewood,  New  Jersey,  187 
Lancaster,  Pennsylvania,  217 
Latrobe,  Benjamin  H.,   198 
Lawrenceville,  New  Jersey,  189 
Ledyard,  John,  109 
Leeds,  Jacob,   182 
Letchworth  Park,  New  York,  171 
Lewes,  Delaware,  "Naval  battle"  of 

200,  201 

Lewis  and  Clark,  109 
Lewiston,  Maine,  32 
Lexington      and      Concord,     Maa- 

sachusettes,  56 
Library  Company  of  Philadelphia, 

204 
Life  Saving  Service,  United  States, 

179 


INDEX 


Lighthouse  on  Barnegat  Bay,  181 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  204,  214 

Lock    Haven,    Pennsylvania,    208, 

214,  230 

Long  Beach,  New  Jersey,  181 
Long  Branch,  New  Jersey,  179 
Long  House  of  the  Iroquois,  163 
Long  Island,  78 
Long  Island  Sound,  77,  78 
Long   Trail   in  the  Green   Moun- 
tains, 46 
Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth,  17, 

68,  73,  86 

Lure  of  the  Map,  the,  5 
Lyon,  Mary,  104 

Macdonough,  Captain  Thomas,  and 
his  victory  at  Cumberland  Bay, 
152 
Maguire,    Jane,    Escape    of,    from 

Indians,   223 
Maine  Coast,   16 
Manchester,  New  Hampshire,  37 
Manchester,    Vermont,    47 
Manisees,  the  wreck  on,  84 
Map,  Lure  of  the,  5 
Marcy,  William  L.,  156 
Martha's  Vineyard,  89,  90 
Masons  Meet  on  Owl's  Head,  Ver- 
mont, 49 

Massachusetts  Bay,  60 
Mayflower,  the,  67,  70,  71 
Maypole  at  Merry  Mount,  64 
Megunticook,  Maine,  19 
Memphremagog,  Lake,  49 
Merrimac  River,  38 
Merry  Mount,  and  the  Maypole,  64 
Mey,  Captain  Cornelius,  184 
Michaux,  Andr6,  216,  Francois,  217 
Middletown,  Connecticut,  97,  98 
Milton,  Massachusetts,  62 
Monadnock,  Mount,  38,  62 
Monhegan  Island,  19 


Monmouth  Court  House,  battle  of, 

192 

Montauk,  Long  Island,  78 
Montpelier,  Vermont,   111 
Monts,  Sieur  de,  22 
Moosehead    Lake,    34 
Morey,  Samuel,  109 
Morgan,  J.  Pierpont,  124 
Morris,  Robert,  204 
Morristown,  New  Jersey,    188 
Morton,  Thomas,  64 
Mount  Desert,  20,  22 
Mount  Hermon,  Massachusetts,  106 
Mount  Holyoke   College,   104 
Mount  Marcy,  156 
Mount  Tom,  105 

Naaman's  Creek,  Delaware,  195 
Nantucket  Island,  90 
Nantucket  Sound,  89 
Narragansett  Bay,  84 
Narragansett  Country,  84,  85 
Narragansett    Pier,    85 
Natick,  Massachusetts,  58 
Navesink  Highlands,  179 
New  Bedford,  Massachusetts,  89 
New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  191 
New  Castle,  Delaware,  197 
New  Hampshire,   16,  36,   109 
"New  Hampshire  Grants,"  45 
New  Haven,  Connecticut,  81,  96 
New  Haven  Green,  81 
New  Jersey,   178 
New  London,  Connecticut,  82 
New  York  City,  113 
Newark,  Delaware,  198 
Newark,  New  Jersey,  192 
Newburgh,  New  York,  144 
Newburyport,    Massachusetts,    54 
Newport,  Rhode  Island,  86,  87 
Niagara  Falls,  171,  173 
Niagara  Falls  Power  Company,  176 
Norsemen,  the,  69,  88 

241 


INDEX 


North  Adams,  Massachusetts,  73, 

75 

Northampton,   Massachusetts,   104 
Northfield,  Massachusetts,  103,  106 

Ocean  City,  New  Jersey,  183 
Odessa,  Delaware,   199 
Old  Coast  Road,  60 
Old  Mine  Road,  136 
Old  Orchard,   Maine,   17 
Oldham,  John,   Indian  trader,   82 

101 

Old  Stone  Mill,  86 
Ontario,  Lake,  157,  161,  174 
Oriskany,  Battle  of,   167 
Oswego,  New  York,   161,  168 
Oyster  Bay,  Long  Island,  78 

"Palatine,  The,"  Whittier's  poem, 

84 

Palisades   Interstate  Park,   122 
Palisades,  the,  6,  122,  126,  140,  188 
Pamola,  26 

Parkman,   Francis,    147 
Passaic,  New  Jersey,  188 
Passamaquoddy  Bay,  20 
Paterson,  New  Jersey,  188,  192 
Peekskill,  New  York,  141 
Peach  Bottom,  Pennsylvania,  234 
Penn,  William,  194,  204,  222,  232 
Penn's  Cave,   Water  ride  in,  212 
Penobscot  Bay,  19,  20 
Pequot  War,  80 
Perkins,  George,  W.  122,  126,  127, 

132 

Perth  Amboy,  New  Jersey,  191 
Philadelphia,  6,  202 
Phillips  Exeter  Academy,  37 
Pilgrims,  61,  63,  67 
Pinchot,  Gifford,  218 
Pine  Barrens  of  New  Jersey,  187 
Pitney,  Dr.  Jonathan  R.,  183 
Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania,  224 

242 


Pittsfield,   Massachusetts,   72,   73, 

74 

Plattsburg,  New  York,   152 
Plum  Island  Marshes,  54 
Plums  on  Sandy  Hook,  legend  of, 

178 
Plymouth  Colony,  18,   19,  65,  88, 

95,  101 
Plymouth,   Massachusetts,   60,   61, 

62,  66,  67 

Plymouth  Rock,  68 
Point  Judith,  Rhode  Island,  84 
Popham  Colony,  18 
Port  Jervis,  New  York,  226 
Portland,  Maine,  15,  17 
Portland  Head,  Maine,  17 
Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,   16, 

36 

Portsmouth,  Peace  of,  16 
Presidential  Range,  White  Moun- 
tains, 42,  49 
Princeton,  Battle  of,  189 
Princeton,  New  Jersey,  189 
Princeton    University,    190 
Providence,  Rhode  Island,  88 
Provincetown,    Massachusetts,    67, 

69,  70 

"Queen  of  Spain's  Lands,"  215 
Queensboro  Furnace,  130 
Quincy,  Massachusetts,  63 

Railroads    in    Pennsylvania,    209; 

first  railroad  to  Atlantic  City, 

183 

Ramapo  Valley,  New  York,  131 
Rangeley  Lakes,  Maine,  33,  34 
Raritan  Bay,  178 
Reading,  Pennsylvania,  218 
Redstone  Old  Fort,  Pennsylvania, 

223 

Rhode  Island,  84,  85,  86 
Rippowam,  79 


INDEX 


Rivers:  Allagash,  34;  Allegheny, 
223 ;  Androscoggin,  40 ;  Ashland, 
38;  Ausable,  151;  Black,  157; 
Brandywine,  196,  217;  Charles, 
50,  58;  Chemung,  229;  Concord, 
57;  Conemaugh,  210,  222;  Con- 
necticut, 39,  82,  93;  Contoocook, 
38 ;  Deerfield,  46 ;  Delaware,  140, 
194,  205,  222;  East,  140,  Elk, 
198;  Genesee,  171;  Green,  75; 
Harlem,  140 ;  Housatonic,  72,  80 ; 
Hudson,  108,  134,  138,  157,  164; 
Juniata,  210,  222;  Kennebec,  18, 
33;  Lehigh,  222;  Merrimac,  37, 
38,  54,  57;  Mill,  80;  Mohawk, 
145,  157,  164;  Monongahela,  223; 
Moose,  40;  Narragansett,  84; 
Norembega,  19;  North,  140; 
Ohio,  225;  Oswego,  163;  Otta- 
gueochee,  47;  Pawcatuck,  84; 
Pemaquid,  18;  Penobscot,  19, 
27,  31;  Piscataqua,  16,  Provi- 
dence, 88;  Quinnipiac,  81;  Ra- 
quette,  157;  Raritan,  191;  Rich- 
elieu, 155;  St.  Croix,  20;  St. 
Johns,  35;  St.  Jones,  200;  St. 
Lawrence,  157,  161;  Saco,  39, 
40,  41;  Sagadahoc,  18;  Sakon- 
net,  88;  Salmon,  97;  Saugua, 
56;  Schuylkill,  205;  Souhegan, 
37;  South,  140;  Sudbury,  59; 
Susquehanna,  164,  170,  227,  228; 
Thames,  82;  Walloomsac,  45; 
Wells,  111;  Westfield,  72;  West- 
port,  80;  Winooski,  112;  York, 
17;  Youghiogheny,  224 
Robinson,  Pastor,  65 
Rochester,  New  York,  171 
Rodney,  Captain  Thomas,  227 
Rogers,  Major,  and  his  famous 

slide,    149 

Rome,  New  York,  168 
Roosevelt  Memorial  Highway,  162 


Roosevelt,  Theodore,  122,  232 
Rothrock,  Dr.  J.  T.,  218 
Rutgers  College,  191 

St.  Lawrence  Reservation,  161 

Salem,  Massachusetts,  55 

Samoset,  18,  19 

Sandy  Hook,  178 

Saranac  Lake,  159 

Saratoga  Springs,  New  York,  145 

Say  and  Seal,  Lord,  95 

Saybrook,  Connecticut,  82,  95,  96 

Schenectady,  New  York,  164 

Schuylerville,  New  York,  146 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  216 

Sebago,  Lake,  33 

Shoals,  Isles  of,  16 

Shoemaker,  Colonel  Henry  W.,  7, 
212 

Siasconset,  91 

"Skeleton  in  Armor,  The,"  87 

Slaves   freed   in  Vermont,   153 

Sleepy  Hollow,  141 

Smith,  Captain  John,  63,  70 

Smith  College,   104 

Snake  Hill,  New  Jersey,   192 

Springfield,  Massachusetts,  72,  94, 
101 

Stamford,  Connecticut,  78,  79 

Standish,  Myles,  60,  64,  65,  70 

Stanley,  Dean,  50 

State    College,    Pennsylvania,    208 

Staten  Island,  178 

Steamboat  tested,   109 

Stepping  Stones,  Historic,  at  Phila- 
delphia, 202 

Steuben,   General  Frederick   Will- 
iam,  167 

Storm  on  Lake  George,  149 

Storm  King,  142,  143,  144 

Storm  bound  on  Mount  Washing- 
ton, 43 

243 


INDEX 


Stove  Plates  in  Pennsylvania,  219 
Sudden  storm  on  Lake  George,  149 

Taconics,  45,  72 

Tarrytown,  New  York,  141 

Taylor,  Bayard,  195 

"Thanatopsis,"  76 

Thoreau,  Henry  D.,  27,  30,  31,  35 

Thousand  Islands,  161 

Ticonderoga,   61,   150 

Trenton,  New  Jersey,  189 

Trenton  Falls,  New  Jersey,  189,  227 

Trenton  Falls,  New  York,  166 

Trollope,  Anthony,  144 

Troy,  New  York,  145 

Trudeau,  Edward  Livingstone,  160 

Tuxedo,  New  York,  131 

Umbagog,  Lake,  34 
University  of  Vermont,  151 
Upper  Kezar  Pond,  Maine,  39 
Utica,  New  York,  161,  166 

Valley  Forge,  202,  206,  222 
Van  Dyke,  Henry,  7,  213 
Varying  opinions  of  New  Jersey, 

186 

Verazzano,  83,  86,  139 
Vermont,  45 

Vineland,  New  Jersey,  193 
Vredenburg,  Count,  152 

Walk-in-the-Water,    first    steamer 

on  the  Great  Lakes,  172 
Wall  Street,  origin  of  name,  118 
Warner,  Susan  and  Anne,  143 
Washington,    George,    45,    58,    61, 
98,  116,  117,  121,  143,  144,  188, 
189,  190,  196,  197,  198,  202,  203, 
204,  205,  222,  224,  227,  228 
Washington,  Mount,  40,  42 
Watch  Hill,  Rhode  Island,  85 


Watkins  Glen,   170 

Waymouth,  George,  18 

Wayne,  Mad  Anthony,  142,  202,  204 

Wellesley  College,  57 

Wells,  Maine,  17 

Wells  River,  Vermont,  111 

Wentworth,  Governor  Banning,  37, 

41,  42,  45,  107,  108,  189 
Wesleyan  University,  98 
West  Point,  128,  142,  143,  144 
Weston,  Thomas,  63 
Wethersfield,   Connecticut,  96,   98, 

»9 
White  Mountain  National  Forest, 

40 

White  Mountains,  39,  94,  110,  111 
Whitefield,  George,  54,  82 
Whitman,  Walt,  192 
Whitney,  Eli,  59 
Whittier,  John,  G.,  37,  54,  83 
Williams  College,  76 
Williamstown,    Massachusetts,    75 
Wilmington,  Delaware,  196 
Wind  Gap,  Pennsylvania,  211 
Windsor,  Connecticut,  100 
Winipissioket    Pond,    39 
Winnepesaukee,  Lake,  36,  38,  40 
Winnesquam  Lake,  38 
Winthrop,    John,    98 
Witches,  in  Massachusetts,  55,  in 

Connecticut,    80 

Wollaston  Hill,  Massachusetts,  64 
"Wanderstrands,  the,"  70 
Wood's  Hole,  Massachusetts,  89 
Worcester,   Massachusetts,   58,    59 
Wren,  Sir  Christopher,  51,  98 
Wright's  Ferry,  Pennsylvania,  233 
Wyoming     Valley,     Pennsylvania, 

229 

Yale  College,  82,  95 
York  Beach,  Maine,  17 


244 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 

STAMPED  BELOW 
AN     INITIAL 


3    1934 
MAR   281934 

NOV  2  1939 


REC'D  LD 

JUW  a  a 


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